


Sun and Steel

by Star_on_a_Staff



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Background Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund - Freeform, Betaed, Canon Compliant, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff, Implications of War, Implied Sylvain Jose Gautier/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Mutual Pining, Romance, This time we don't die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_on_a_Staff/pseuds/Star_on_a_Staff
Summary: “Come now.” Marianne drew up her knees to her chest, smiling demurely but knowingly at her younger sister. “I have noticed your fascination with Sir Fraldarius. You’ve mentioned his name in no less than four different conversations with me.”“I find him most disagreeable and taciturn,” Annette laughed incredulously. “How can a man in possession of every worldly comfort be so inept in navigating a simple conversation without infringing upon common courtesy?”In which Felix and Annette fall in love in a Pride and Prejudice-inspired AU. Written for the 2020 Felannie Mini Bang event in collaboration with LunaChai! Beta'd by the lovely Kaerra <3
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67
Collections: Felannie Mini Bang 2020





	1. A New Acquaintance

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2020 felannie mini bang, but this certainly isn't a mini project! Both Luna and I have been hard at work on this since January, and we're anxious to show you the fruits of our labor!
> 
> I will be posting Part III later this week due to time restrictions, but hopefully you'll enjoy Parts I and II for now! I should have a disclaimer that this work is an amalgamation of Jane Austen, the 2005 film adaptation, cherry-picked lines from both Annette and Felix's supports and gratuitous reinterpretation by yours truly, but I hope that you will enjoy it nonetheless!
> 
> Thank you to [Kaerra](https://twitter.com/Kaerra3) who functioned as Beta Mom and Historical AU facts checker during this whole process. My most sincere gratitude goes out to her, love you boo <3
> 
> And of course, thank you to the inimitable [Luna Chai](https://twitter.com/lunachaili), who was the first to conceive of this amazing idea <3 <3 Her exquisite drawings and sincere commentary have brought so much more color and life to my work than I could've ever done on my own. (Insert pleading face emoji here) Thank you so much for coming along this journey with me :')
> 
> Go check out her amazing art [here!](https://twitter.com/lunachaili/status/1302273894720532486)
> 
> And now, without further ado, I present to you a Pride and Prejudice Felannie AU!

(Cast Lineup by LunaChai)

**Part I: A New Acquaintance**

When word spread that the illustrious Sir Felix Fraldarius was to be in attendance at the Blaiddyd ball on the eve of the month, Mrs. Dominic wasted no time in collecting her hopes and skirts to immediately confront her husband in his study.

“Mr. Dominic,” said she, with great agitation, “have you _heard_ of who would be in attendance at the Blaiddyd ball in a fortnight’s time?”

“I have heard of many guests who have had the honor of being invited.” Mr. Dominic replied gravely. “Lord Blaiddyd has the reputation of being a most excellent and considerate host.”

Mrs. Dominic moved towards him in her excitement. “But have you heard who is to be the guest of honor at this prominent event?”

“My dear, there are many individuals whose titles and deeds could easily fulfill that role at such a gathering.”

“Cruel, Mr. Dominic, you are being cruel!” Mrs. Dominic placed a hand on her heaving breast and pronounced with great solemnity, “Sir Fraldarius _himself_ is to be the guest of honor! The very gentleman who has recently come into his late father’s _vast_ fortune, including the entire Fraldarius estate and mansion—82 acres for the mansion alone! His annual salary is 10,000 pounds a YEAR. Imagine meeting the man at this very party!”

“I am imagining it.”

“Consider the prospects that this means for our girls! Consider that this highly respected and did I mention _wealthy_ man could find one of them attractive, and present an offer of courtship to one of them! Our fortunes would be insurmountable!”

“My dear, you are quite over exaggerating the man’s worth; he is far from a monarch, after all.”

Mrs. Dominic sucked in a breath that was so intense her finely-carved face fairly glowed. “ _Mr. Dominic_.” Her voice rang with desperate gravitas as if she were pleading for blessed Saint Seiros herself to be forgiven.

“Don’t fret yourself, madam.” Mr. Dominic replaced his reading glasses with a long-suffering sigh, picking up his paper again. “I have already secured invitations for our entire family to the party earlier this afternoon. I’ll trust you to make the necessary preparations, then?”

Mrs. Dominic had not the time to express her joy, for behind the study doors, which had been pried slightly ajar with curious fingers, Annette Fantine Dominic muffled her spirited squeal of delight and seized her wide-eyed sisters, Ingrid and Marianne, around their waists to pull them into an excited dance of girlish anticipation.

“10,000 pounds a YEAR,” Ingrid said breathlessly. “What riches he possesses! I can scarcely imagine it!”

“He interests me,” Marianne said with timid calm. “If we were to be introduced, I would be most honored to meet him."

“Girls, “Annette cried, leaning backwards and gripping them firmly around the shoulders, “Sir Fraldarius has much to live up to. Many people will be vying to test that mighty merit on the night of the ball, and I am half inclined to join them!”

“You are too bold, Annette,” Marianne chided. “His reputation speaks for his character, I am sure.”

“He could be a cross old fellow with a sour attitude.” Ingrid proposed gaily. “In my limited experience, rich men are often cross.”

“Ingrid!”

“It’s true, Mari! Why, I dare say that you have met many a sourpuss since your debutante!”

Marianne shrank. “I never believe I have.”

“Ingrid,” Annette cut in with a smile, her eyes dancing, “you forget that sweet Marianne has never considered anyone to be less than the most courteous of fellows in her entire life. She hasn’t a single judgmental bone in her entire body!”

“Everyone I meet has been most agreeable to me.” Marianne agreed slowly. “But—”

The study doors swung open. All three daughters gasped and dropped into guilty curtseys as their father walked out of the room, removing his reading glasses. Behind his shoulder hovered their extremely satisfied looking mother.

“Well?” Mr. Dominic placed his hands in his pockets, trying and failing to make his features stern. “It’s almost time for dinner. Go make yourselves presentable.”

“Yes, father.” They echoed.

Annette chanced a glance up into her father’s face. He cast her a look of exasperated fondness and amusement as Mrs. Dominic swept excitedly around him, taking her daughters by the elbows and hurrying them into the dining room.

“Girls, have you _heard_ of who would be in attendance at the Blaiddyd ball in a fortnight’s time?”

* * *

As the night of the ball drew closer, the excitement and gossip surrounding the mysterious and powerful Sir Fraldarius built to such a frenzy that everyone who had the slightest imaginative inclination soon thought him to be the most incomparable beneficiary in all of the annals of history. 

Never mind that Lord Blaiddyd outranked him in title and heritage--did the noble gentleman make more than the collective annual salary of all the homeowners in Southern Fhirdiad? Did he boast of possessing the most proficient sword-arm in the north? Was he hailed and awarded as a war-hero by the Archbishop himself? I should think _not_!

To be sure, Lord Blaiddyd was a handsome blonde with the most dashing azure eyes and the most genteel of manners. But even that surely could not compare to Sir Fraldarius, whose father supposedly once charmed the very Queen herself with naught but his words alone. 

Mrs. Dominic brought every piece of news she could acquire about Sir Fraldarius to her daughters with the cunning mind of a shrewd, even up until the moment where they were rattling towards the Blaiddyd estate in the family carriage in their third-best gowns. 

“The late Sir Fraldarius, Seiros rest his soul,” Mrs. Dominic confided in a nervous twitter of excitement, “was said to have the eloquence of an angel and the disarming smile of the devil. All of his acquaintances spoke most highly of his silver tongue.”

“What a great reputation to leave behind,” Marianne murmured. 

“I am most curious to discover if his son will prove worthy of his father’s legacy,” Annette said, as Marianne’s careful fingers swept her straying fiery strands back into place. “I do say that Sir Fraldarius has much to live up to.”

“I still hold that he will be cross and disagreeable,” Ingrid commented in her driest tones, fidgeting and picking at her sky-blue gown. “Money is a pleasant burden, but a burden nonetheless. If he attempts to ask me to dance, I shall hit him with my fan.”

“Ingrid!” Mrs. Dominic said sharply, pointing her own ivory fan at her daughter, which fairly trembled with its wielder's consternation, “If the man offers to dance with you, nay, even to _court_ you, you shall accept at once, _at once_ , do you hear? I have not birthed and raised three beautiful and educated daughters all these years for one of them to throw away their chances at a most agreeable match!”

Ingrid sighed and turned to look out the carriage window. 

“If Sir Fraldarius shares his late father’s penchant for words,” Marianne, the peacemaker, spoke up cautiously, “then perhaps Annette would suit him better. Her wit and charm are quite cutting.”

“You overpraise me,” Annette said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“Oh, but Annette, it is true, what Marianne said!” Mrs. Dominic said eagerly, her fan swerving to find a new target. “Your sharp tongue and wit could be of use at last! They will do you well in masking your other traits that may not be so desirable.”

Annette gave her mother a withering stare as the carriage drew to a rattling stop in front of the gates of the Blaiddyd residence. 

“The Blaiddyd Estate,” their coachman intoned. 

“Now, girls,” Mrs. Dominic said into their ears as they alighted gracefully from the carriage steps one by one, gripping their coachman’s hand for support, “do try to be on your best behaviour. Your future husband could already be awaiting you in that magnificent ballroom!” 

Marianne sighed. Annette giggled. Ingrid shuddered.

With such disconcerting encouragement, they entered through the exquisitely carved doors, opened by a most richly-dressed footman in handsome ashen blue livery, and the trio of daughters swept into a room of dazzling light. 

* * *

Lord Dimitri Blaiddyd himself greeted them at the entrance to the ballroom. He was young, pleasantly handsome and exceedingly tall, bowing low as he kissed the eldest sister, Marianne, on her gloved hand. His voice and inflections spoke of well-breeding and an earnest nature, and his blue eyes sparkled as he lifted his golden head. 

“It is such an honor to finally meet the famous Misses Dominics.” His voice was quite deep and richly inflected. “Word of your integrity, wit, and spirit has preceded you.”

Marianne flushed prettily, withdrawing her hand. 

Mrs. Dominic swept up to him in a swirl of skirts, curtseying deeply. “May I introduce my three daughters, Marianne, Ingrid, and Annette.”

Lord Blaiddyd smiled, gazing down at Marianne in wonder. “Charmed.” 

Annette smiled prettily. Ingrid bobbed her head. 

“Pray let me escort you to the dances. The musicians have been most eager to please tonight.” Dimitri offered his arm to Marianne, and she took it with a quiet word of thanks and a rare smile. 

“Lord Blaiddyd seems most agreeable.” Mrs. Dominic clasped her hands together as they made their way through a throng of laughing house guests and splendidly dressed nobles. “It would be fortunate if we leave Marianne and him alone for a short while.”

“Mother! That would not be proper,” Ingrid said with great disapproval.

Annette leaned over and took her sister’s arm. “Come, Ingrid. Let’s adjourn and let this play out in its entirety. I’m quite curious as to the development of this relationship.”

“What relationship, pray tell? They have scarcely met!” Ingrid said in mortified tones. “I have yet to determine his behavior, his character, or his motivations, and a man of his social standings would have very little to gain from mingling with someone of our status.”

“You are being tiresome, Ingrid.” Annette threaded her arms through Ingrid’s and led her away from the reception hall. “Let’s simply enjoy the party and not worry ourselves about men and their many faults.”

“No merits to be spoken of?”

“We have yet to ascertain that to its fullest.”

Ingrid hid her smile behind her hand, allowing herself to be led bodily into the main hall, where the music swelled the loudest and the dancers whirled and stomped and clapped. “One of these days Annie, someone will catch your eye and then you’ll have to watch your tongue.”

A single sweet dulcet voice pierced through the cacophony of music and pleasant conversation.“Is that my Annie? My sweet Annie!”

“Mercedes!” Annette tore herself away from Ingrid, leaving her quite alone on the floor, and embraced her friend with exuberant tenderness. “Why, I had no idea you were in attendance!”

The sweet woman laughed in a voice that was like the ringing of church bells.“My brother offered to escort me tonight in place of our father, who is abroad. How was I to refuse? You can see him lurking there in the shadows, conversing with Sir Fraldarius.”

“Sir Fraldarius!” Annette gasped, “THE Sir Fraldarius? That is him?”

“The very one. Handsome, isn’t he?” Mercedes giggled, pointing. 

Annette followed the line of her best friend’s finger and studied the famous man with a critical eye. Even through the lens of a thousand conversations' worth of gossip, Sir Fraldarius looked every inch the haughty noble scion of his father.

Every descriptor was tried and proven true; there were the infamous eyes of flashing copper, brighter than a knight’s spurs; there was the ink-black sweep of his hair, catching the candlelight and throwing it back with careless beauty. His clothes were ink-dark and of the finest weave, though deceptively simple. But most arresting of all was the impenetrable mask of disinterested courtesy frozen upon that marble face; it turned down his lips and darkened the fire in his eyes, souring the otherwise attractiveness of his unique features. 

The man was looking around the room with an expression on his face that clearly said, “I do not want to be here.” His eyes, wild and fiery, made contact with Annette’s, and she was unprepared for the cutting nature of his cold gaze. It quite unnerved her, and she was relieved when his eyes broke away and he turned to speak to a pale-haired woman at his elbow.

Annette came to the conclusion that while Sir Fraldarius had certainly lived up to everyone’s expectations in regards of both looks and fashion, his manners and disposition on the other hand proved very much lacking.

“He looks miserable, poor soul!”

“Miserable he may well be, but poor he certainly is not.” Mercedes’ voice took on a sly air. “So far his manners have been quite disappointing…he has only danced with two ladies, Madame Blaiddyd and Lady Hresvelg, and that is only the barest of courtesies. But most anyone is willing to forgive a man with 10,000 pounds a year.”

Annette laughed, and was rudely interrupted as Mrs. Dominic rushed up to her, breathless and red-faced with excitement. “There you are, Annie! Your father has been speaking to Sir Blaiddyd and he has agreed to introduce you all to Sir Fraldarius! Where on earth are your sisters?! Every time I turn my back you have all scattered to the far winds--oh, how do you do, Mercedes.”

“How do you do, Mrs. Dominic.” Mercedes sank in a beautiful curtsy that went quite unseen by Mrs. Dominic as she seized Annette’s arm and began leading her towards the head of the room. 

“Now, put on a smile!" Her mother urged, "You look like you’re in mourning.”

“I _am_ in mourning.” Annette said sharply as Mrs. Dominic frantically waved at Ingrid, who was in lively conversation with an officer in blue. “I am mourning the spirit of every eligible woman who wishes to attach herself to a man as dour-faced as Sir Fraldarius.”

“You needn’t possess spirit when you’re married to a man earning 10,000 pounds a year!” Mrs. Dominic gaily reassured her daughter as a disgruntled Ingrid joined them to collect Marianne from the irresistibly honest charm of Lord Blaiddyd. 

“I see.” Annette remarked dryly. “I marvel at the tenacity of married women.”

“We all do,” Ingrid said with a discourteous roll of her eyes. 

Marianne hushed them; they were approaching the man in black.

“Sir Fraldarius is a noble man and one of my most excellent friends,” Lord Blaiddyd said, pitching his voice above the noise of the instruments as he led them to the head of the room. “His character and upbringing has produced a man of especial quality.”

“Oh, I’m sure!” Mrs. Dominic agreed in a high voice. Her husband sighed and wiped his brow. 

“Fraldarius!” Lord Blaiddyd called out cheerfully. “I have some lovely acquaintances I’d like you to meet.”

Sir Fraldarius turned from his conversation to bestow upon the Dominic family a cool stare of that same polite disinterest as from earlier. As Lord Blaiddyd made the appropriate introductions, Sir Fraldarius’ gaze lingered on Annette. She repressed a slight shiver as his eyes studied her with singular focus. At this impressionable proximity, his wildness was even more arresting without distance easing the frost in his gaze. 

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” Sir Fraldarius said. He spoke without affectation and without very much pleasure at all. His voice was not deep, but rather cool. Annette thought that it suited his features perfectly. 

“Allow me to introduce my daughters,” Mr. Dominic grunted with little preamble, much to his wife’s horror and his daughters’ relief. “This is my eldest, Marianne. This here is Ingrid, and this is Annette. She is my youngest.” He laid a hand on Annette’s shoulder, and Annette felt his support in that heavy grasp.

“Charmed,” Sir Fraldarius said, the exact word that Lord Blaiddyd had used at the doorway of his estate. How very different that same word sounded from this so-called silver tongue! 

“It is such an honor, Sir Fraldarius.” Mrs. Dominic enthused, almost gushing. 

Annette tugged on her mother’s sleeve in an effort to restrain her, but the woman would not be deterred. “We have heard SO much about you.”

“Mama.” Marianne reproved softly. 

Sir Fraldarius bowed stiffly. “My merits have been more than overpraised, I am sure.”

Mrs. Dominic opened her mouth to speak but Annette hastily intervened with impulsive alacrity. 

“Why, yes,” she said archly. “Your merits have been lauded to such a degree that you have been deemed entirely faultless, which, if I may be so bold, I do not believe.” 

Mrs. Dominic made a horrified sound behind her. Ingrid hastily turned away to cover her smile.

Sir Fraldarius affixed his attention on her. Annette forced herself to meet his gaze, and she all but quailed at the unfathomable depth of his eyes. 

Unexpectedly, he smiled. It did little to soften his features, but Annette deemed it a small victory nonetheless. 

“I am glad to have met someone who dares to swim against the current of meaningless gossip.” He turned his head to peer listlessly out the great windows bedewed with evening fog. “Though most people who know my character have deemed it a rather meritless kind.”

Lord Blaiddyd sputtered with indignation beside her, and Annette failed to stifle her laugh as she spoke gaily, “People only say such things about gentlemen who indulge in a barely sociable amount of dances as the smallest of courtesies to not seem impolite.”

“Annie!” Mrs. Dominic sounded as if someone had plunged a red-hot poker into her breast. 

Her husband let the overcome woman fall onto his arm with barely a twitch of his stony features. Sir Fraldarius did not seem insulted, however. He turned a curious look upon Annette. 

“Is that how you interpret my actions, Miss Dominic?”

“How else am I supposed to interpret them?” Annette asked archly. “I believe that I speak for the entire county when I express my disappointment that you haven’t made yourself as socially agreeable as your dear friend and host Lord Blaiddyd.”

“You flatter me, Miss Dominic.” Lord Blaiddyd laughed. “Ah, I dare say that her fabled wit cuts deeper than even your old swords, eh, Fraldarius?”

“That has yet to be determined,” Sir Fraldarius muttered in a sour tone, prompting his golden-haired friend into a fit of hearty laughter. 

Annette beamed and curtseyed, her heart pounding as her mother heaved a tiny sigh of relief behind her. 

“Please, let us enjoy the rest of the night while it is still young.” Lord Blaiddyd wiped a tear from his eye and extended an arm towards Marianne. “May I have this next dance, Miss Dominic?”

“You may.” Marianne blushed prettily, dipping her head as Lord Blaiddyd swept her off towards the other dancers. 

Annette barely had time to exult in her sister’s pleasure before Sir Fraldarius was speaking to her.

“You’ve piqued my interest, Miss Dominic,” He said stiffly, making a perfunctory bow. “I do hope we may have the pleasure of meeting again in the near future.”

“I am honored by your interest, sir.” Annette curtseyed again. “I hope you will have improved your manners the next time we meet.”

“Your standards are high.” Sir Fraldarius’ eyes flashed. “Pray inform me, how might I accomplish such a feat?”

Annette threw him her brightest smile over her shoulder as Ingrid pulled her into the milling crowd. “Dancing would be a marvelous first step!”

* * *

Everyone who was in attendance at the ball agreed on several points: while they pronounced the ball itself a social success, the original object of fascination himself, Sir Fraldarius, proved rather disappointing. Though his manners were impeccable and his demeanor spoke of high breeding, the man’s personality was chilly and so overall disagreeable that people soon regarded him with a mingled air of wariness and overall dissatisfaction. 

In the tumultuous days that followed the ball, Annette found herself agreeing with Ingrid's maxim and tacked on her own addendum: money did make men cross, but it certainly didn’t drive the local gentry away.

“I heard that Sir Fraldarius has been accosted with every manner of invitation day in and day out,” Ingrid confided to Annette one day as they sat together in the parlor a week later, their fingers enmeshed in a pile of quite-neglected mending. “And yet he barely leaves his host’s home to answer them in person.” 

“He is making himself a rare soul indeed,” Annette laughed into her sewing. “And yet all the local women had been most persistent in making his acquaintance.”

Ingrid peered at her sister, pricking herself for her lapse of attention to her work. “What will you do if you were to meet with him again? Would you engage with him in the fashion of that famous clash of wits I bore witness to that night of the party?”

“I doubt it will happen again.” Annette shrugged carelessly, sighing most luxuriously. “I find myself quite drained just thinking of his troublesome face.”

“A handsome face, nonetheless.” Ingrid smiled with the slyness of a cat, and the two girls laughed. 

“Annie! Annie, oh, you would not believe what the postman delivered today!” Mrs. Dominic burst into the room, followed closely by a very red Marianne, who was wringing her hands and blushing so fiercely that her face resembled the sun. 

“What is it?” Annette all but tumbled off the settee as Ingrid rose in excitement. 

“Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg herself has invited Marianne to come have tea with her and her brother, Lord Blaiddyd, this evening!” Mrs. Dominic waved the cream-colored letter with its imposing ink-blue seal like a flag of parley. “ _Our_ Marianne! Oh, I may faint with this sheer fortune!”

“Mama, please,” Marianne sounded breathless, her normally pale cheeks flushed with her excitement. “It’s simply an invitation. Please calm yourself, think of your nerves.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” 

Mrs. Dominic sank onto the couch and fanned herself vigorously as Ingrid plucked the letter from her mother’s hands and quickly scanned its contents once, then twice.

“You must take the carriage then.”Annette gripped Marianne’s hands and fairly danced around the parlor. “You have to honor their invitation in a timely manner!”

“No, no, no!” Mrs. Dominic wheezed from the couch, her eyes shining with a conspiratorial gleam. “You shall ride Dorte to Lord Blaiddyd’s estate. It will put some color in your face!”

“Is that wise, Mama?” Ingrid cast a glance out of the window, where clouds had begun to quickly blot out the afternoon sun. “It looks like it will rain, and heavily at that. Marianne catches cold so easily!”

“Come now, Ingrid,” Mrs. Dominic said, fanning herself with renewed vigor as Annette knelt next to her mother’s feet. “I assure you this course of action is the most beneficial and prudent to our family at present. Have the stablehand prepare Dorte! And Marianne, my sweet, let Annie assist you in your preparations right away, right away I say!”

* * *

Marianne departed for the Blaiddyd estate at five o’clock in the evening, under a growling sky mottled with storm clouds threatening to burst with rain. Ingrid and Annette cast each other a worried look as the old grandfather clock in the front hall chimed ten times, but there was still no sign of Marianne. 

However, Mrs. Dominic wore an expression of serene self-satisfaction even as everyone began making their preparations for bed. Mr. Dominic, who had always harbored a tender spot in his heart for his eldest and gentlest daughter, expressed a desire to prepare the carriage and set forth for the Blaiddyd estate at once. 

His wife deterred his efforts with a single solemn look and a grave pronouncement: “All is well, Gustave. It would hardly be proper to go calling at this time of night. Let the girl stay over a night; what’s the harm?”

Mr. Dominic stared at his wife for a moment, and then stormed away into his study and shut the door with resounding force. Ingrid and Annette sighed and reluctantly climbed the stairs to their bedrooms, casting a final look out of the darkened windows, where silver rain rattled the panes and dripped down its surfaces. 

In the morning, Annette’s first thought upon waking was of Marianne. Sunlight, bright and cheery, poured onto her face as she rushed through her morning toilet and pinned up her hair haphazardly, her heart pounding a frenetic rhythm. Where was Marianne?

Her mother, cool and composed, smiled at her beatifically as Annette all but fell down the banister in her haste. 

“Ah, good morning Annette. We received a most grievous missive with the morning post. Our poor Marianne has caught ill and is confined to bed. Lord Blaiddyd has sent his deepest apologies and has promised to take _exquisite_ care of her.”

“Oh,” Annette sank down onto her chair with a despondent air. 

Ingrid was ferociously cutting her meat into jagged squares, her stony silence a clear indicator of her strong feelings on the matter. 

Mrs. Dominic ate her breakfast with a sunny air. She looked ten years younger, her face glowing with triumph. Annette ate slowly and mechanically, scarcely tasting the food that touched her lips. Marianne had never boasted of a hearty constitution like her sisters did; sacrificing her health for the bare potential of a suitor’s offer seemed ludicrous in the clear hindsight of morning. 

Ingrid put down her fork with a clatter. 

“This is wrong!” she burst out, “Marianne is such a dear, and you knew that it was going to rain, and you sent her out with every inclination of having her fall ill! How could you be so _cruel_ , Mother?” 

“I am not being cruel, Ingrid dear! Quite the contrary!” Mrs. Dominic said, tone aghast. “I am securing your sister’s future. It is most imperative that we have her stay in close proximity with both Lord Blaiddyd and Lady Hresvelg for as long as it takes for mutual affections to blossom. This is for Marianne’s good, I assure you!”

Ingrid stood abruptly, pushing aside her plate. “I can’t believe you, Mama.” 

She fairly stormed out of the room, her cheeks flushed and her mouth set in a furious line. Annette reached out to catch her sister’s hand in passing, but Ingrid swept by her without a backwards glance. 

Mrs. Dominic delicately wiped at her mouth, unperturbed. “Ingrid must learn to control her temper if she is to be married. No man would want a woman with such a fiery nature. It is wonderful that sweet Marianne has such a gentle disposition, wouldn’t you agree, Annette?”

“Men who disfavor hot-blooded women must have weak constitutions, I think,” Annette replied with great honesty. “It will be a listless marriage otherwise!”

Mrs. Dominic smiled and patted her youngest’s hands. “My dear, your romantic fancies are amusing now, but wait until you have secured a profitable marriage of your own. Reality is a far different creature than the kind we read about in storybooks.”

Annette drew in a deep breath. A small burst of Ingrid’s anger blazed through her briefly, but it quickly died down as she quickly devised a plan of her own to counteract the fallout of her mother’s unethical actions.

“Mother, I am worried about my sister’s health. Allow me to go to the Blaiddyd estate to help nurse her back to health so that she would not be accused of overstaying her welcome.”

* * *

The walk across the county was of significant distance, but Annette relished the feel of brisk morning air and the motion of the journey as she strode through the frost-bitten banks of Fhirdiad. Her brisk pace allowed her to arrive at the threshold of the Blaiddyd estate just as Sir Fraldarius and Lady Hresvelg were sitting down to afternoon tea when the footman in handsome ashen blue livery opened the door and announced the arrival of a Miss Annette Dominic. 

The rooms were lofty and handsome enough to have made Annette feel self-conscious of her disheveled appearance, but at least even Sir Fraldarius possessed enough courtesy to stand and offer her a short bow to acknowledge her entrance. 

“Miss Dominic!” Lady Hresvelg exclaimed, her delicate features alight with astonishment.“My goodness, did you walk here?”

“I did,” Annette admitted. 

Sir Fraldarius’ eyes bored into hers, and she was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the mud on her hem, her unbound hair falling to her shoulders and her flushed features. She must look positively medieval. 

Annette shook away those unpleasant thoughts and hastily asked, “I’m sorry, how is my sister?”

“She’s upstairs,” Sir Fraldarius said shortly. 

His eyes never left her face, and a vague coil of unease unraveled in her stomach. 

“Thank you.” Annette hastily bobbed into a curtsy, wincing as her soiled dress bedaubed the beautiful ivory floor, and quickly took her leave. 

On her way up the stairway, she nearly bumped into Lord Blaiddyd, who was descending at a rapid pace. 

“Oh, Miss Annette! How good of you to come!” 

His earnest cheer was a welcome change from Sir Fraldarius’ cold demeanor, and Annette found herself relaxing under his warm welcome.

“I am so sorry to call upon you so unexpectedly,” she said earnestly. 

He shook his head with great vigor. “My sister and I were most distressed when Miss Dominic fell ill.I’d planned to send for a doctor tonight, but with you at her side I am sure that her recovery would be a speedy one.”

“I shall offer my skills however I can.” 

Annette smiled up at him, and Lord Blaiddyd bowed low. 

“I am most deeply grateful, Miss Dominic.”

Annette found Marianne in the lavish guest chambers well settled in, but feeling rather poorly. Her chief complaints were that of a low fever, sore throat, and a headache, but Annette suspected that the flush on her sister’s face was from a disease of an entirely different sort.

“Lord Blaiddyd has been most kind,” Marianne sighed happily as Annette wrung out a damp rag over the silver wash basin in the corner of the room. “He has lavished upon me every comfort I could desire, and has been most anxious in hearing of my recovery. Oh, Annie, he has been such a gentleman to me, I feel quite overwhelmed by his attentions.”

“You deserve every luxury money can afford, love!” Annette said with great energy as she brought the cooled washcloths over to her sister’s side. “Lord Blaiddyd is only just realizing this.” She added with mischievous intent. 

“Oh, you are mistaken,” Marianne murmured, coloring. “He is simply being a kind host.”

“You and Ingrid have always said that my discernment has always been keen.” 

Annette shushed her sister’s protests as she laid the cool washcloth on Marianne’s fevered forehead. “Please allow me to indulge in my observations.”

Marianne smiled weakly up at her sister’s dancing eyes, reaching up to stroke her freckled cheek. “Thank you, my sweet Annette.”

“Of course, Marianne.” Annette leaned into her sister’s hand with a happy sigh. “You know that I would cross the world for you.”

* * *

The day trickled slowly by, and soon Annette was obliged to leave her sister to rest at her leisure. The illness had left dear Marianne quite weak, and strict bed rest seemed to be the best cure at the moment. 

Annette brought the news of her sister’s slow convalescence to dinner, to which Lord Blaiddyd responded with great demonstrations and expressions of relief. His reaction to the news of her recovery endeared himself to Annette to her sister instantly. Though she still viewed her mother’s actions with a critical eye, she was decidedly optimistic in the progression of affection between her gentle sister and kind Lord Blaiddyd. 

Thankfully, these pleasant thoughts occupied her mind and shielded her from Sir Fraldarius’ cool nature and Lady Hresvelg’s formidable manners, and Annette managed to strike up a lively conversation with Lord Blaiddyd during the course of the meal. She learned much about his upbringing and the nature of his relationship with both Sir Fraldarius and Lady Hresvelg.

“We were raised almost as brothers, Fraldarius and I.” Lord Blaiddyd smiled good-naturedly at Sir Fraldarius, who glared at him and busied himself with the venison on his plate. “Our fathers were very close and we shared their penchant for closeness, it would seem.”

“Proximity is our only similarity, I assure you,” Sir Fraldarius said dryly to Annette. “It has been tiresome to be perpetually chained to this boar.” 

“That’s unfortunate,” Annette replied, disconcerted.

She cast a nervous glance at Lord Blaiddyd, who seemed unperturbed by his guest’s scathing words. Was this sort of behavior so commonplace that it was to be expected from Sir Fraldarius?

“Pay them no mind,” Lady Hresvelg said, her countenance warming with a slight smile, and Annette gratefully turned towards her as she spoke. “They have clashed with each other thusly since boyhood. Frankly, I believe this would be a constant in their lives even until death.”

“El, don’t be so cruel,” Lord Blaiddyd said with an injured air. “You know his true nature just as well as I.”

“What is his true nature, pray tell?” Annette asked with curiosity, inwardly exulting in the way Sir Fraldarius’ eyes were snapping back and forth between the two step-siblings like a warning. 

It was amusing to observe a cold man so easily disconcerted by some simple ribbing. 

“You must discover it for yourself, Miss Dominic.” Lady Hreslvelg cast Sir Fraldarius a rather amused look. “I am sure he is most eager to divulge it.”

Sir Fraldarius met her gaze evenly, his sharp eyes disguising some inner sentiment that Annette couldn’t quite perceive. 

“You give praise most freely,” he said, and bowed his head in a mockery of humility. “What other choice do I have but to accept it?”

Lady Hresvelg smiled at Annette over his bowed head, and this time her expression was wider and sunnier. “Sir Fraldarius is being most gracious today. Enjoy the moment while it lasts, Miss Annette.”

“Am I to gather that Sir Fraldarius is not normally as conversant and courteous as he is today?” Annette asked brightly. “That is a disappointment. He seemed to me a most amiable acquaintance.”

“Your judgement proves false for once,” Sir Fraldarius scoffed. “Do you so often look through these rose-colored lenses of yours, Miss Dominic?”

“I try to see the best in people, that is all,” Annette retorted, giving him her sternest gaze. Under the stares of her hosts, she faltered slightly. “Ah, I admit that it’s a rather childish sentiment to uphold…”

“Of course not,” Sir Fraldarius said abruptly. “It’s a rare soul you possess, and one that will do you well to cultivate.” 

“My dear Felix,” Lord Blaiddyd said in tones of wonder, “Did I just hear you deliver Miss Dominic an unsolicited compliment? Are you perhaps feeling unwell?”

Sir Fraldarius cast a look of most profound indignation at his friend and host, and Annette hastily thought it prudent to find a friendlier topic of conversation. 

* * *

Marianne’s word had proven true. Annette found Lord Blaiddyd to not only be a gracious and most excellent host, but a veritable fount of kindness and earnest sincerity, which heartened and delighted her considerably. It was difficult to find a man of equal bounds for compassion, sense of justice, and social dignity as Lord Blaiddyd. His character was confirmed to be of most excellent quality, and Annette exulted in her sister’s choice. 

He extended a gracious invitation for Annette to stay the night, and she accepted his offer with utmost gratitude. Thanks to his hospitality, the next day passed slowly but pleasantly. Marianne was recovering steadily under her sister’s diligent care.When not attending her sister, Annette enjoyed the company of those whom she found to be most gracious and excellent hosts of the estate.

Lady Hresvelg made every effort to keep Annette occupied with lively and engaging conversations about the most fascinating of topics, in which the regal lady herself proved to be well versed. Though her manners were brushed to a frigidly precise shine, Annette found her to be a delightful day companion besides her own sweet sister. 

They often walked about the study where Lord Blaiddyd and Sir Fraldarius conducted their business in the afternoon. Lord Blaiddyd was on such intimate terms with his childhood friend, as Lady Hresvelg explained, that her brother insisted on sharing his private office space with Lord Fraldarius.

When Annette first broached her hesitance in disturbing their work, Lady Hresvelg smiled and confided to her in a low tone, “I am sure that my brother would not protest at the opportunity to converse with a lovely young lady with wits as sharp as those you have demonstrated scarce a day ago.”

“I _do_ apologize for that,” Annette said with heightened color, but her companion laughed and led her into the study without another word. 

The two gentlemen rose at their entrance. Lord Blaiddyd smiled with his usual affable nature and Sir Fraldarius made the barest facsimile of a bow in their direction. 

“We will not distract you gentlemen overmuch, I hope?” Lady Hresvelg asked. 

“Of course not.” Lord Blaiddyd made a gallant gesture while Sir Fraldarius turned back to his work with a muttered word of welcome. 

Annette felt distinctly unwelcome in his presence, but was soothed by the sweetness of Lord Blaiddyd’s nature and resolved to bear her cross with as much grace as she could muster.

“Tell me, Miss Dominic,” Lady Hresvelg asked as she sat herself elegantly at the well-situated pianoforte in the corner of the room, “are you musically inclined?”

Annette flushed. “Oh, a little. I am an amateur compared to my sister Marianne’s skills.”

“But I’ve heard from your mother that you have an especial inclination towards singing,” Lady Hresvelg pronounced politely as if each word hadn’t struck its mortal blow upon Annette’s aghast soul. She struck a few notes on the pianoforte. “Perhaps you could honor us with a sample?”

“My mother grossly exaggerates.” Annette said in a pitched tone. “I wouldn’t want to impose on you with my poor skills.”

“She spoke most glowingly of your abilities,” Lady Hresvelg said with bright astonishment. “Perhaps the saying that a mother looks through rose-colored glasses bears validity after all.”

Annette laughed in what she hoped to be her most disarming tone. “Surely.”

“Ah, well.” Lady Hresvelg rearranged herself before the instrument with a brisk air. “We cannot allow the gentleman to suffer through their business in tedium; I will play a few bars, and perhaps you might find it in yourself to join me at your leisure.”

Annette wondered at the barb in her hostess’ voice, but counted herself lucky to have escaped close scrutiny under the piercing gazes of these well-bred hosts. She felt especially judged under the keen gaze of Sir Fraldarius, who had not only caught her eye several times during this alarming conversation, but had quickly busied himself with his papers as if he had never intruded upon her presence beforehand. 

Seized by a sudden impulse, Annette directed her next question towards him in an effort to be congenial. “Do you sing, Sir Fraldarius?”

“Not if I can help it,” was the stiff rejoinder, and Annette felt appropriately chastened as she sunk back to her seat. 

Thankfully, Lady Hresvelg proved herself a most charming musician, and Annette found that the afternoon passed quickly under much safer subjects of conversation. 

As the evening slowly crept upon them, they rose to prepare for tea. As Lord Blaiddyd walked ahead with his sister to discuss matters of state, Annette found herself being escorted by a most dour gentleman in Sir Fraldarius, who took her arm with all the frigid decorum he was wont to exhibit. 

Annette attempted to inject some levity in their conversation. “I trust that your day was productive?”

“It was a tedious afternoon.” Sir Fraldarius replied stiffly. “I would rather not share a study with his lord and ladyship; they can be distracting.”

“In what shape or form?” Annette asked in confusion. “They seemed most studious to me.”

“It is not in their manners, which are _exemplary_ ,” Sir Fraldarius replied with great emphasis, “but they seem to dry a room of its niceties. I am speaking of the way my dear ladyship accosted the pianoforte as if there was no tomorrow.”

“She played most charmingly,” Annette defended her hostess with ever growing confusion. 

“Yes, her skills were most dazzling.” Sir Fraldarius seemed agitated, as if something in the air had affected even his immovable politeness to the point of pugnacious behavior. “But she played as if it were the only form of entertainment left to her, allowing no room for guests to join in any companionable form without seeming intrusive to both parties of musician and audience.”

His pointed words took Annette back, and the true meaning of his strangely impassioned speech dawned upon her. 

A horror seized her. “I beg your pardon, but even if I were to join her, my voice would make a very poor accompaniment to Lady Hresvelg’s stellar talents.”

“I haven’t the honor of hearing your voice for myself yet.” Sir Fraldarius said. “So I would rather make that judgement for myself with the appropriate experience.”

Annette was aghast. This gentleman was worse than the rumors have painted him to be! To think that he would infringe upon her dignity in such a boorish fashion! To think that he would dare to be so presumptuous so as to _solicit_ her for a sample of her vocal talent! To think that he would infringe upon the dignities of her esteemed guests simply for his own selfish pleasure!

Sir Felix Fraldarius, Annette decided furiously as they entered the dining room, was most decidedly a detestable gentleman. 

* * *

With the company of the more pleasantly-mannered inhabitants of the estate, the following days passed by in a much more agreeable manner. Under Annette’s attentive care and their hosts’ diligent ministrations, Marianne recovered rapidly, and within a few short days was pronounced by the local doctor to be sound enough to travel home. 

Annette delightedly wrote to her mother, who responded that Mr. Dominic and Ingrid would bring the family carriage around the estate at once. Marianne and Annette already missed the sharp wit and down-to-earth nature of their middle sister, and so the news of her imminent arrival had been most gratifying to hear.

“I am most delighted to be returning home,” Annette had confided to her sister on the last night of their stay at the Blaiddyd estate. “I’ve missed Ingrid and her dry humor.”

“Oh, most certainly.” Marianne sighed, pressing her hands to her heart. 

A faint smile played at the edges of her pretty mouth as she turned to face Annette in the guttering glow of the bedside candle. 

“But you certainly have had no lack in keeping that sharp tongue of yours in regular employ these past few days.”

Annette cast a bemused look at Marianne. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Come now.” Marianne drew up her knees to her chest, smiling demurely but knowingly at her younger sister. “I have noticed your fascination with Sir Fraldarius. You’ve mentioned his name in no less than four different conversations with me.”

“I find him most disagreeable and taciturn,” Annette laughed incredulously. “How can a man in possession of every worldly comfort be so inept in navigating a simple conversation without infringing upon common courtesy?”

The older and wiser sister, Marianne pondered Annette’s bewildered countenance with a quiet but thoughtful air. “Social graces notwithstanding, what do you find intriguing about this, according to your reports, most disagreeable gentleman?”

Annette fretted with the loose threads of her nightgown, her gaze growing distant as she mustered a reply under her sister’s discerning gaze. 

“Sir Fraldarius is…sullen and sharp. He is wealthy, but does not suffer under the same pompous airs of those smugly aware of their fortune. His features are comely, and yet he does nothing with them but to frown! He puzzles me, Marianne!”

“I daresay he does.” Marianne smiled serenely at the richly threaded canopy as her flushing sister buried herself deeper within their shared bedding. “I am curious as to how Ingrid and Mother will respond to this unexpected development.”

* * *

The Dominic carriage arrived with the sun, and while Annette and Marianne were eager to excuse themselves for fear of overstaying the bounds of proper hospitality, Mrs. Dominic was most effusive in expressing her gratitude to the kind-hearted host of her two beautiful and quite single daughters. 

“It is not difficult to find suitors for them, no, not at all,” Mrs. Dominic happily prattled over her cup of breakfast tea to a polite-faced Lady Hresvelg, a bemused Lord Blaiddyd and a deeply disapproving Sir Fraldarius while her daughters cast her pleading glances to stop at once. “But my sweet Marianne is so shy, you know, and I was frankly amazed when she accepted Lady Hresvelg’s invitation straightaway--”

“Mama,” Annette reproved fiercely, but Mrs. Dominic was an indomitable force of nature. “Thus I really _must_ thank you, Lord Blaiddyd, for tending so diligently to my daughter! I thank you from the bottom of my heart as a mother and as a lady.”

“Well, but of course!” Lord Blaiddyd brightened as he turned to smile at Marianne, who ducked her head to hide behind her drooping lashes. “She was an uncommon delight to host at my estate, and it would be my greatest honor to invite you once again, Miss Marianne.”

Marianne colored prettily and could not muster a reply, but the happy flush of her cheeks were enough of a suitable response. Annette was most delighted to witness this exchange between her sister and the kind gentleman, and both her mother and Ingrid also seemed to share the same sentiments. 

“Well, we must be on our way now,” Mrs. Dominic proclaimed as she rose with an air of triumph, her daughters following suit in more demure fashions. “You have my thanks for everything that you have done for my Marianne; why, I had my doubts, as my darling Ingrid could testify! Our community is an old one, you must understand, and it is not often that we welcome new settlers with such rapid effusiveness.”

In vain did Annette endeavour to check the carelessness of her mother’s words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less offensive terms, for even the kind expression of Lord Blaiddyd faltered under the indelicacy of Mrs. Dominic’s clumsy attempts at solicitation. Annette felt rather than saw the great disapproval radiating from Sir Fraldarius, who sat opposite them, and she clutched at her mother’s sleeve as Ingrid hastily took it upon herself to make amends. 

“My sisters and I are in your debt,” she said with marked earnestness. “Please, if there is anything we can do to repay you--”

“Oh, think nothing of it.” Lord Blaiddyd exclaimed with earnestness. “In fact, I have been at fault in allowing your lovely sister into such a compromising situation. Allow me to make my recompense in a fortnight’s time.”

“Why? How?” Ingrid replied archly. “What is to happen in a fortnight, pray tell?” 

“A grand ball,” Lady von Hresvelg proclaimed with cool grandeur. “Nothing of the previous gathering’s scale, of course. My brother and I would be most delighted with your family’s presence, for we are most anxious to put our best foot forward after everything that has transpired.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Dominic breathed in a delirium of delight, and Annette hastily gripped her mother’s hand in anticipation of what could be a most dangerous outburst. “We gladly accept!”

“Marvelous.” Lord Blaiddyd smiled, and Annette noticed how the majority of his smile was directed towards a quietly beaming Marianne. “Then! Let the bitterness of today’s parting be soothed by the promise of a more fortuitous meeting.”

After a few more niceties that followed the same strain as the previous conversation, the ladies were soon escorted out onto the grounds where their carriage awaited their presence. Mrs. Dominic stepped inside while rejoicing fairly effusively in their new fortune, and Ingrid climbed in after her mother with her usual energy. 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Marianne was saying earnestly to Lord Blaiddyd even as the gentleman endeavored to set her fears at rest. 

“You're welcome any time you feel the least bit poorly,” He said to her kindly as he helped her aboard the carriage, and Annette smiled to see the gentle flush of crimson peeking out from just above her sister’s collar. 

Her smile soon faded with Sir Fraldarius’ approach. The very sight of his cool countenance and his handsomely fitted riding suit irked her to no end, but Annette curtsied as quickly as social decorum would allow.

“Sir Fraldarius.”

“Miss Annette.”

She curtsied once more to Lord Blaiddyd, finding that curtseying was much more pleasant when the recipient actually smiled back, and moved to ascend the carriage.

A warm hand gripped hers, and startled, Annette looked down just in time to see taciturn and unfriendly Sir Fraldarius wordlessly handing her into the carriage. His eyes held hers for a brief electric moment before he released her hand and she sat heavily into her seat. 

Annette was speechless. Puzzled beyond measure, she hardly noticed when the carriage driver whipped the horses into a trot. As the wheels clattered on the cobblework, she glanced back to see Lord Blaiddyd and his sister waving them off with calm smiles and Sir Fraldarius striding swiftly back inside the estate, flexing his ungloved hand. 

_Most peculiar,_ Annette thought to herself. 

* * *

Mr. Dominic was not of the sort to revel in the bustle of his household, so it was with great relief that he retired to his study after a boisterous evening of the female contingent accosting a hotly blushing Marianne over her most delightful conversations with Lord Blaiddyd. The newcomer’s charms and wealth grew in exponential amounts with every eager retelling by the girls’ exuberant mother. 

Safely ensconced from the prattle of feminine tongues in his study, the gentleman took out the day’s mail as recently delivered by their courier. Running his eyes over the usual letters of business, Mr. Dominic suddenly found a most ostentatious letter stamped with a great red seal protruding from the otherwise unobtrusive stack of correspondence. 

He withdrew the heavy envelope, and at the sight of the great crest of the eagle spreading its waxen wings across a perfumed paper of marvelous quality, Mr. Dominic allowed himself a heavy sigh. 

“So this is how my kinsman Ferdinand von Aegir makes his suit. Hmph. How indelicate.” 

.

End of Part I


	2. Pleasant (and otherwise) Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette makes some new acquaintances, welcome and otherwise, and also stumbles onto new discoveries. Felix is a disaster.

Part II: Pleasant (and otherwise) Relations

Word of the upcoming ball spread like wildfire, and the Dominics found themselves in a frenzy of preparations helmed by their zealous mother. Letters were to be delivered, dresses were to be refitted, and all sorts of new finery must be procured for the event. According to their mother, there was to be no chance--no chance!--of passing up an honorable suit simply for want of a fine toilette. 

“I feel as if we are always preparing for some auspicious gathering.” Ingrid mourned as she and her sisters strolled through the streets of town in their mother’s wake. “Dressing up in finery day after day as if calico and muslin dresses define our very reason for living.”

“My dear, you are singular.” Mrs. Dominic admonished as she paused to inspect a bolt of fine lace. “Any girl your age _must_ be prepared to present a dashing figure to catch yourself a husband, and no daughter of mine should pass up the Blaiddyd ball lest she were at death’s door! Imagine the scandal! Now, this color would bring out your eyes most beautifully, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ingrid was very vocal about her refusal to attend the ball, and while Mrs. Dominic quickly showed signs of tolerating the errant wiles of her hot-tempered daughter, both Marianne and Annette were amused in Ingrid’s animated deflections of her mother’s attempts to rouse her spirits for the upcoming ball. 

Their verbal bout was cut short however by a sudden commotion on the far end of the street. Mrs. Dominic clutched at her bosom at the sudden rattle of artillery, but the cloud on Ingrid’s brow cleared without a trace as she turned towards the noise. 

“The regiment must be in town!” she said.

“I thought that they were not to be on holiday for at least another fortnight!” Annette said in surprise, but Ingrid had already rushed forward in her excitement to witness the newest force of soldiers tramp into town. 

“They bring such a racket,” Mrs. Dominic complained. 

Disregarding her mother’s usual complaint, Annette gleefully seized Marianne’s hand and hurried to catch up to Ingrid. Their sister had already swept to the corner with breathless abandon, staring at the orderly lines of the soldiers with an uncharacteristically bright countenance. 

Their regalia fairly dazzled Annette’s eyes: the splendid blue and silvery livery shone proudly on their chests and shoulders as the men marched through the streets to the beat of their drummer’s tattoo and the cheers of eager maidens flocking the streets to watch them enter. 

“How free they look,” Ingrid murmured. 

Annette glanced quickly at her sister, whose countenance bore a strange mixture of wistfulness and great resignation. It passed swiftly however, and Ingrid turned back to her sister with a quick smile. “What do you think, Annie?”

“Splendid! They’ve cut quite a figure in those uniforms, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, indeed. Quite debonair.”

Marianne observed how the infantry seemed to inspire such a state in the local female population, to which both Annette and Ingrid laughed at the lightly baffled tone by which their sister had made this commentary. 

A nearby captain, who was saluting his fellow officers’ entry into town, overheard and laughed heartily at the comment. “You are not wrong, miss. We soldiers must wrestle with the burden of halting fawning young maidens in their advances before they discover the truth of regiment life in its gruesome reality.”

“Ah,” Ingrid retorted gaily, “but what if the maiden is well aware of such gruesome realities and would not be so opposed to discovering more of its tragedies?”

“Ingrid!” her mother gasped, scandalized, but the soldier laughed heartily and bowed low to Ingrid. “Quite the tongue on you, miss! Would you find it within yourself to honor a humble captain with your name?”

“Miss Ingrid Galatea Dominic. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.” Ingrid curtsied, and the captain took her hand to kiss it. “The honor is all mine. I’m Captain Sylvain Gautier.”

All three sisters took to the charming young man almost immediately. His appearance was greatly in his favor, for he had a fine ruddy countenance, a good figure, and a very pleasing address. His readiness to talk and make good conversation added to his character, for his manner of speech was both perfectly correct and unassuming. Even Mrs. Dominic’s scruples were broken down by his gallantry, and as he took it upon himself to escort them to their respective destinations, Annette found in him a most engaging conversationalist.

“You must allow me to walk you along the banks of the river,” the captain suggested as they completed the last of the day’s purchases. “The water is fine this time of year, and I know of a charming little outcrop that has the most stunning view.”

“I was not aware we had such a locale!” Annette said in surprise. 

“Oh, I simply scoured this countryside when I was a boy. It holds no secrets from me.” The captain laughed. “I was a rash lad and would happily wallow in the muck before mature civility laid its claws in me.”

“A pity that such a free-spirited nature as yours could be so bound by trifling rules,” Ingrid commented archly. 

The captain cast her a merry look. “Ah, the dangers of modern civility! I’ve had many a good friend lost to its gloomy confines; it is of great pride that I take to these colors, for even in my rank I am allowed more freedom than that of the common gentry.”

“And here I thought that a soldier’s very vow is one of discipline and self-sacrifice; contradictory traits in your nature, I dare to presume,” Ingrid said with heightened alacrity. 

“Your presumption strikes true, madame.” The captain bowed and offered her his arm. “Alas, the very nature I possess is one of contradictions. Allow me to ply your ear with said oddities.” 

“Such a careless nature he possesses, and yet his charming air lends him favor,” Marianne observed in an aside to Annette. “It is a wonder that Ingrid takes to him so quickly, seeing as this is a character in which she would usually find the most fault.”

“It is rather singular,’ her sister agreed, “but perhaps our Captain Gautier is of a different ilk than the doddering generals who were at our sister’s mercy.”

“He is certainly much younger and more handsome,” Marianne allowed. “Such shining red hair! And he seems to possess such fine manners as well.”

“Has our charming Lord Blaiddyd already vacated his throne in your heart so swiftly, Mari?” Annette teased, and delighted in the sudden fluster of her sister’s consternation. 

All in all, the ladies considered their expedition a mutual success. Annette and Marianne were delighted to find their sharp-tongued sister taking part in a most agreeable relation with their new and dashing acquaintance. Mrs. Dominic was delighted that her impenetrable daughter did indeed possess some interest in the opposite sex after all!

But most of all, Ingrid was delighted to find in Captain Sylvain Gautier not only an entertaining gentleman most unlike the fools at previous gatherings, but a confidante who empathized with even the most radical ideals that she upheld. 

As they walked along the banks of the river, Annette soon caught sight of a familiar riding party making its way southward towards the town centre. There was the familiar shining golden locks of one Lord Blaiddyd sitting astride a magnificent white stallion, and the more subdued auburn colors of his sister trotting primly beside him on a fetching dappled gray. 

“Look, Mari,” Annette teased while waving her handkerchief gaily at them across the river, “a veritable knight upon a white stallion has come to sweep you away.”

“You presume too much, Annie,” Marianne stammered. 

Nevertheless, she waved shyly back at Lord Blaiddyd’s exuberant greeting, and increased her pace towards where the gentleman had halted his horse. His sister waved in her own cool way, and Annette was glad to see her in a more lively state of dress. 

“Ah, Lord Blaiddyd.” The warm voice of the captain startled the sisters from their reverie, and Annette turned to see Captain Sylvain saluting the noble from across the banks with great sincerity. “He’s been a good friend to me and a staunch supporter of my regiment in years past. I owe him a great deal.”

“Oh, so you know Lord Blaiddyd!” Annette said in surprise. “I was unaware that we were already so pleasantly connected.”

“He was one of which I have spoken of before,” the captain replied. “One whom the claws of conventional propriety have already sunken in deep, but he was a promising soldier before he fell ill and retired to the country to recover. I pay him a visit whenever I can.”

“Oh, but he is most noble, isn’t he, Marianne?” Ingrid cried, and her sister flushed even hotter and fairly hid behind her sister. 

Annette was about to follow in the same vein as her sister’s pointed teasing when a sudden whinny and clattering of hooves across the river prompted her to raise her head. 

A snorting jet-black stallion had just dashed up to the side of Lord Blaiddyd, and Annette started when she realized that it bore the stormy-faced Sir Fraldarius upon its back. The gentleman wheeled to a stop with a flurry of sparks, and the accompanying neighing of the beasts fairly rang in her ears. 

Even at this distance, Annette perceived that Sir Fraldarius was flushed, whether with anger or exertion she could not guess, for he suddenly threw her group a look of most profound scorn that she felt stung to the core. She could not conceive of any offending acts or nature on her part. 

Annette turned to the rest of her party, opening her mouth to speak, when she suddenly saw Captain Gautier casting an equally cool look across the river to where Sir Fraldarius’ steed was pawing restlessly at the bank. The sudden frost in the captain’s eyes were at odds with the usual gentility of his accompanying features, and so their disparity confused and shocked Annette. 

Sir Fraldarius was the first to turn away, speaking to Lord Blaiddyd in inaudible and yet demonstrably stirred tones, and after nodding to Lady Hresvelg, he kicked his horse into a cantor and stormed away into the depths of the city. 

Ingrid broke the silence with the question that lingered on everybody’s minds. “What on earth just happened?” 

“I beg your pardon for witnessing such an unfortunate meeting.” Captain Gautier had resumed his usual pleasant expression, however they were now tinged with regret and some odd sorrow. “Sir Fraldarius and I are not on the best of terms.”

“Forgive me for presuming, but that seemed downright pugnacious,” Annette said in strained tones. 

She had yet to recover from the intensity in Sir Fraldarius’ gaze. He had seemed a person to whom emotion did not come to easily, and yet that sudden clench of red-blooded fury upon his comely face lingered like aftershocks in her mind. 

“What is the nature of your relationship that might elicit such a reaction from the taciturn gentleman?” she continued.

The captain laughed quietly. “I couldn’t possibly bore you with the details. It was nothing of great consequence, and yet I believe our mutual stubbornness has poisoned our relations to what it has become today. Forgive me for not fully satiating your curiosities, but I risk marring the reputations of people above me.” 

“We beg your pardon,” Marianne said quickly. 

Ingrid agreed, but Annette found herself unable to forget the blaze of hatred that had broken through the usual impassiveness of Sir Fraldarius’ nature and its counterpart in the easy grace of Captain Gautier’s. That uneasy combination of foreboding and mutual curiosity followed her home until she was kept awake that night by the rampant questions that ran free in her mind without restraint. 

O.O

“My poor nerves have had it today,” Mrs. Dominic bemoaned suddenly one morning. “Girls, your father is intolerable. Interrupting me at my day’s needlework telling me to prepare a good supper for some high-feathered kinsman! It’s an exciting prospect for you, my dears, but does he consider me in his efforts! Singular, the man is!”

“Whatever do you mean, Mama?” Annette asked as Ingrid and Marianne entered from their morning walk. 

“Oh, come in and sit, dears.” Mrs. Dominic’s tone abruptly changed as her two daughters were hastily escorted to the drawing room with the alacrity of the possessed. “A _wondrous_ opportunity has dropped from Heaven’s lap and it is all thanks to your father.”

Her daughters questioned her eagerly about this sudden turn of events, and Mrs. Dominic allowed herself the brief pleasure of their spirit before announcing in solemn tones, “A kinsman of your father’s, a noble Ferdinand von Aegir, will be dining with us tonight! He is wealthy, in possession of good connections, and is in the good graces of the Archbishop himself! And he’s come all this way to visit our humble homestead!”

“Oh dear,” Marianne said with her usual enthusiasm. 

Ingrid, predictably, did not keep her opinion on the matter to herself. Annette clutched at her sister’s sleeve before being batted away in gentle annoyance. 

“But Mama, what of his character?” Ingrid asked. “He is here simply to take stock of what is to become his property in but a few years, isn’t he?”

“Oh, Ingrid, you can be so _dour_ ,” her mother scolded. “All talk of this dreadful business of entailment aside, our dear Ferdinand boasts of high-born Imperial stock! Imagine marrying into that noble and esteemed realm! It would be a hundred dreams of mine fulfilled with a single act of matrimony!”

“You can’t possibly expect us to marry a man whom we haven’t yet _met_ , Mama,” Ingrid said exasperatedly. 

Her mother dismissed her concerns with an airy wave of her hand. 

“A man with such good social graces and connections such as he can only be in possession of a fitting personality! It is only natural, Ingrid.”

“I would like to meet him first…” Marianne murmured with a touch of fear to her voice, only to be instantly comforted by her mother. 

“Oh, my dear, what with all the letters of loving inquiry we’ve been receiving by that wonderful Lord Blaiddyd, there’s no doubt that you are not the one to marry our dear Ferdinand. That honor must go to one of your sisters!”

Both Ingrid and Annette made dual sounds of protest while Marianne flushed such a bright crimson that she could fairly be seen from the windows. “Mama--”

“Now, make your preparations, daughters.” Mrs. Dominic rose with the grace and dignity of the conquering hero while her children followed suit in much more despairing fashions. “Our guest arrives tonight!”

O.O

Mr. Dominic had only needed to hear a single word from the long-winded gentleman himself to determine what kind of character Lord Ferdinand von Aegir had brought to his doorstep. With such sentiments such as expressing admiration for the “beautiful ornaments of feminine grace and beauty” that have “apparated” before him in the forms of the very baffled daughters of the Dominic name, noble Ferdinand von Aegir soon ensconced himself into the humble home of his kinsmen with as much ease as a prancing pony would settle into the stables of a peasant’s stable. 

“Allow me to pay my richest compliments to my fair cousins,” the brilliantly adorned noble bent to kiss each one of his cousin’s hands, taking to the act with such zeal and length that Annette felt the urge to laugh only quashed by her utter disdain for this extravagant gentleman. To think that her mother expected her or Ingrid to marry this man!

While Lord Aegir waxed deeply on the charms of Mr. Dominic’s second and yet most fair and striking daughter, Ingrid wore such a ludicrous expression of disbelief on her face throughout his entire speech that even gentle Marianne had to stifle a giggle of her own behind her own well-loved hand. 

Mr. Dominic was not one for humor, but there was something akin to laughter twinkling in his eyes as he extricated his daughters from their predicament by escorting his guest to dinner. 

Mrs. Dominic followed with a rather audible whisper, “What did I tell you girls? Such a friendly disposition!”

“If I am forced to marry that man, I will abscond from this family with an unutterable crime upon my head,” Ingrid said in a tone of such vicious conviction that Annette feared for Lord Aegir’s safety. 

The daughters indulged in a brief hysterical moment of shaken, desperate laughter before quickly following their mother into the dining hall. Lord Aegir had already taken to lauding the modest but bountiful “wealth of the board” spread on their dining room table. 

“I must thank you for such a charming dinner; there is much to be said for a rustic spread, wouldn’t you agree? Such simplicity…you would never find anything like this on the Aegir estate, and thus I revel in my current prospects. I thank you, sir, for allowing me to partake in a dinner that I would’ve been deprived of had I not taken up the suggestion of my personal connections to mend our familial rift.”

“Of course,” Mr. Dominic said. 

“We shall all need to abscond at this rate,” Annette whispered to Ingrid, and the two sisters indulged in a moment of sheer, overwhelming despair that was checked only by the grave sweetness of their older sister. 

O.O

Thankfully, the whirlwind of extravagance that Lord Aegir brought along with him served as a fair excuse to prepare for the upcoming ball at the Blaiddyd estate, which was almost upon them. Annette and her sisters found themselves in a bustle of activity, trimming hems and shortening necklines in preparation for an event far more formal than the one where they had first made the pleasant acquaintance of Lord Blaiddyd. 

“I heard that Captain Gautier is to be in attendance, along with several high-ranking officers of the regiment,” Ingrid commented one night over a pile of stubborn needlework. 

“Lord Blaiddyd had always been a staunch supporter of the army,” Marianne replied calmly as she helped free her sister’s needle from her entanglement. “It would make sense that he would extend the invitation.”

“I am worried if he and Sir Fraldarius should meet,” Annette confided. “Just think if the two were to come to blows! And we have had heard such stories of both the captain and Sir Fraldarius’ feats during the war. I wonder who would be the victor in such a scenario?”

“Such violent thoughts, Annie,” Marianne chided, but not without a thoughtful look upon her face. “Yes, one could only hope that the two would meet peaceably for the sake of their mutual friend.”

“I suppose we’ll see tomorrow,” Ingrid sighed mournfully as she set down her pile of needlework. “But I will attend anything so long as Lord Aegir does not follow us to praise the very arch of my eyebrow for the hundredth time this week.”

“I heard he received an invitation too,” Annette said in a despairing tone. “He was bragging about it to Mama just outside on the verandah.”

“Will we receive no peace?” Ingrid threw her hands up in frustration, nearly upsetting her basket of needlework. “Those two are thick as thieves, always whispering and glancing over at us as if subtlety is the furthest from their minds! I will get no peace from them!”

“Hush, Ingrid,” Marianne murmured. “We will have to bear with it for the foreseeable future, so it would be unwise to make things even more difficult than they already are.”

Annette nodded. “Until then, let us focus on making such a favorable impression at the ball that by the time our dear Ferdinand Aegir makes his suit, we will already be happily courting men of a more pleasant and forthright nature than he can ever hope to possess. Come, girls!”

O.O

The night of the ball was fast upon them. The girls prepared their finest gowns and were most satisfied with their efforts. All of them wore white, as was suiting the latest fashion, and both Annette and Marianne wore soft, gauzy chiffon while Ingrid preferred the stiffer drape of satin. 

Annette also took exquisite care of her sisters’ hair so as to bring attention to the finely formed nape of Marianne’s neck and the handsome slope of Ingrid’s shoulders. As for her own attire, Marianne arranged her ruddy locks to resemble a crown like the goddesses of legend, and when they looked into the mirrors, every girl was pleased by what smiled back. 

Mrs. Dominic swept into her daughters’ dressing rooms in a monstrous attire made almost entirely out of silks and feathers and gasped. “Oh, my radiant angels! All of you look splendid; now hurry, we must depart now if we should hope to make the meeting on time; your father and Lord Aegir will be escorting you so take care!”

“And take heed,” Ingrid muttered in an aside to Annette, who struggled in vain to keep her amusement from bubbling to the surface.

Their journey to the Blaiddyd estate was swift, thanks to Mrs. Dominic’s desire to showcase their splendor in the charming phaeton that Lord Aegir was so eager to bestow upon them as a show of goodwill; the daughters thought of this as a very unwise move on their mother’s part but did not complain to the light bouncing of the phaeton in comparison to the heavy rocking of the usual carriage. Their benefactor rode ahead on a spirited chestnut, demonstrating such excellent skill in the saddle that even Ingrid admitted to a grudging respect for his equine abilities. 

The entire estate was lit with music and revelry by the time they pulled up to the threshold. Lord Blaiddyd was greeting his guests at the door as before, but tonight he was dressed in a fitted suit of the most deepest azure, trimmed in gold, and thus cut a most dashing figure as a result. He was an expressive man, and thus could not conceal his joy and admiration at seeing Marianne alight from the phaeton. 

“My dear Miss Marianne!” He called out in tones of stirring joy as she curtsied most prettily on his steps, “I am overjoyed that you were able to attend, and in the bloom of health no less!”

“I am honored,” Marianne said shyly, and offered her hand to Lord Blaiddyd with none of the trepidation that had accompanied the same instance with Lord Aegir. 

Annette was most pleased by what transpired between them, as were the rest of her family, for it seemed a most prosperous and advantageous match for beloved Marianne. 

“Allow me to escort you inside,” Lord Aegir offered his arm most gallantly towards Annette. 

Seeing how Ingrid had already seized their father’s arm with a sudden and sweet filial look most uncharacteristic to her nature, Annette sighed and bore her cross by smiling wanly and taking the proffered arm with as much grace as she could properly exhibit. 

“The estate has been much improved upon in my absence,” Lord Aegir remarked as they entered the swinging doors held open by smartly dressed footmen. “The furnishings! The ornamentation! Nothing could be lacking! I must offer my sincere praise to the master of the house once I get a word alone with him.”

“Of course,” Annette replied, already distracted by the prolific sight of the officer’s uniform scattered amongst the elegant crowd. 

Captain Gautier’s regiment were in general a very creditable and gentlemanlike set, and it was apparent that the best of them were at the current party. But what of the best of their best, the captain himself? Annette found herself straining to look for those locks of rakish ruby, paying half-attention to the man already upon her arm making an effort to solicit her good graces. 

For unbeknownst to Annette, Lord Aegir had already decided upon her hand in marriage as agreed upon with Mrs. Dominic, who had easily struck Marianne off the list by hinting at a possible future match with a certain local lord, while ruling Ingrid out entirely by simply remarking wearily on her sharp spirit and hot temper. Annette would be a most suitable match, for she was talented at the social graces and possessed a fine ear for music! She would suit Lord Aegir just perfectly. He had her full permission to court the sweetest and loveliest of the Dominic daughters. 

In vain did Lord Aegir attempt to make his advances known, for Annette was caught up in her determined search for Captain Gautier amongst the teeming crowd of the party. At some point, some stuffy noble with silken violet locks that fell almost to the waist recognized Lord Aegir and thankfully spared her another half-hour of impromptu lecture on the Leicester style of furnishings. As the two men waxed long and eloquent on the duties of the nobility, Annette hastily made her exit to where the dancing in the enormous and well-lit ballroom was being held, where she suddenly came upon a much more pleasant face than that of her previous companion. 

“Mercedes!”

“Oh, my dear Annie!” The sweet woman swept Annette up in a loving embrace, and then as if suddenly remembered that this was no ordinary ball, hastily apologized for her effusiveness. “To think that I would find you here! Everyone has been talking about you and your new guest!”

“Ah, you mean the peacock that has strutted into our home,” Annette sighed. “I can certainly accost you with all the exhausting details, but I would much prefer to speak of more pleasant topics. Pray tell, where is your brother?”

“Oh, Emile? He could not make the occasion, as he is feeling poorly.” Mercedes smiled and leaned in to confide in Annette’s ear, “If I may be forthright, he cares little for these events. I strongly suspected he and his steed formed a mutual agreement to cripple themselves just in time for the invitations to be sent out. Pray for his stubborn spirit, won’t you?”

“I will,” Annette laughed. “But who escorted you tonight then?”

“That honor belongs to one Sir Felix Fraldarius.” Mercedes inclined her head in the direction of the twisting staircase, where Lady Hresvelg, decked in a swan-like gown of golden white, was conversing with the aforementioned gentleman himself. 

The sight of Sir Fraldarius never failed to elicit strong reactions from Annette. Beforehand, it was burning curiosity, which gradually swelled to strong dislike, and just recently settled into a simmering confusion not untouched by disdain. But even now, with the words of Captain Gautier ringing in her ears, Annette was struck by the dark and imposing figure cut by Sir Fraldarius’ chosen attire for the night. 

His suit was dark as night, seeming to almost swallow the brilliance of the diamond fixtures on the ceiling and casting all of its radiance in the subtle gold filigree lining the hems of his sleeves. His gloved hand lightly held the hilt of a long, elegant sword that hung from thin belts around his waist, and the breadth of his shoulders strained at the dark fabric. 

He was handsome and his figure quite beautiful, Annette admitted. But it was a pity that all that beauty was marred by the unfriendly scowl that seemed to cling to his features no matter the occasion. 

“He is really not as bad as they say.” Mercedes was saying into her ear. “He did us the honor of visiting our home when he heard of my brother’s illness, and offered to escort me to tonight’s gathering in Emile’s stead. He really is kind, underneath that veneer of thorns that he wears.” 

“My darling Mercie,” Annette said with energy, “I trust you on so many degrees and I adore you, but my personal experience with the man has never been anything less than disagreeable. He has treated me with scorn and derision, and I do believe that he is set against me.”

“Such strong opinions, Annie!” Mercedes chastised. “Such talk would never land you a dance with him.”

“Why on earth would I want to dance with such a dis-favorable partner? Any officer in this room would prove a thousand times more pleasant and befitting the revelry of the occasion.” 

“Let the night mellow, my dear, and perhaps you would find your opinion much changed,” Mercedes answered with a look of infinite wisdom. 

The evening did indeed progress in a most lovely and lively manner. Annette had the honor of dancing with such suitable partners that her evening was a most enjoyable experience. She only had the misfortune of dancing with Lord Aegir once, but thankfully was rescued from that stuffy predicament by a blank-faced but affable gentleman who wore robes of the clergy. 

“I wasn’t aware that dancing was a luxury afforded to your profession,” Annette said in surprise. 

“Many people believe that,” the gentleman replied with a small smile. “I personally believe it is a harmless act that improves social relations, and surely the Goddess would not find fault in something so enjoyable?”

He entertained her in like manner for a short time, and Annette learned that his name was Mr. Eisner. As the current round of dances ended, the musicians began to strike up the more sedate strains of the waltz, and Annette considered retiring to find her sisters. 

As she toured the yawning rooms of the estate, following the strains of the music, Annette found herself humming in time to the beat of the musicians’ melody. They were a talented set, leagues ahead of the local group that had been brought in at the last gathering, and so their whirling scales and playful rhythm elicited a rare melody from Annette’s lips.

However, a flash of night-dark suit caught her attention, and Annette looked up in mutual astonishment and horror to find herself accosted by Sir Fraldarius himself, who stood in the door frame of the room she was occupying as if he had been standing there a while. 

“May I have this next dance, Miss Annette?” he asked quietly. 

“You may,” Annette replied in a stupor of shock. 

He bowed coldly to her, and retreated. 

Dimly, she felt Mercedes suddenly plucking at her elbow, and Annette all but fell into her best friend’s arms in a most flustered state. “Where was my presence of mind? I fell into a trap of my own making!”

“I daresay you would find him agreeable,” Mercedes attempted to soothe, keeping the indescribably soft look on the aforementioned gentleman’s features as he had listened to her young friend sing to herself for the present. 

“Goddess forbid!” Annette said in bitter despair. “ _That_ would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish upon me such an evil.”

Mercedes cautioned her to be wary of her tongue, for surely even her marked hatred could be bound by the promise of a man worth 10,000 pounds. To this, Annette made no reply, and she soon found herself facing Sir Fraldarius across the room with her heart beating in her chest. 

The first two rounds passed by in silence. Annette strove in vain for a suitable topic of conversation with this man that did not involve anything of a musical nature, which proved nigh impossible during a waltz of this nature, but aborted several attempts at useless pleasantries that was sure would antagonize him further. 

However, Sir Fraldarius was not proving to be forthright in his social advances either, and so finally after a third round of stepping in and stepping out and turning without so much as a peep from the both of them, Annette finally turned to her strongest asset, archness. 

“You have been most quiet, Sir Fraldarius. Pray tell me what is on your mind.”

“Must I confide in you so readily?” Sir Fraldarius asked in a tone of the driest nature. “We have been dancing but for a few minutes.”

“Dances are meant to elicit goodwill and companionship,” Annette replied as they stepped around each other once again. “I daresay that this proves enough grounds so as to build a companionable repartee?”

“Do you mean that our previous experiences are not enough grounds for a suitable relationship?” Sir Fraldarius asked.

Annette bit back a most impolite response and hurried to arrange her features into a more agreeable expression as they turned and stepped around the other dancers to meet again in the middle. “Perhaps if one party found previous experiences less than agreeable, a relationship would not constitute as grounds for suitable companionship?”

“I am afraid to say that I’m at a loss as to what you mean,” Sir Fraldarius said in a tone that almost sounded like confusion in its most genuine form. “Have I offended you in some way?”

“Oh, not at all,” Annette said in her sweetest tone as he took her hand to lead her into the next portion of the dance. His grip was warm. “I believe that we make excellent companions due to our mutual inclinations towards favorable social advances.” 

“Do you not find me to be such a companion?” Sir Fraldarius asked as they separated. Annette was allowed a respite to formulate her answer as she made her circles around the other dancers, and was afforded a thoughtful response at the expense of honesty. 

“Perhaps. I have not the time to study your character as much as I would like, for I have heard many reports of yourself but in such different lights that they puzzle me exceedingly.” 

Her partner cast her an unfathomable look as they stepped in and out of each other’s spaces. “I hope to afford you more clarity in the future.”

Annette had not the time to wonder over the nature of this reply, for almost abruptly Sir Fraldarius asked, “Tell me, do you and your sisters often walk to town centre?”

“Ah, you mean near the river? We do so quite often.” Annette saw her opportunity and seized it. “In fact, when you met us, we just had the pleasure of making a new acquaintance.”

The effect was immediate. Sir Fraldarius’ face flushed, and when he replied his words were strained. “Captain Gautier is blessed with such happy manners that his social advances always bear him the fruit of pleasant acquaintances.”

“He seems to have had the misfortune of losing yours,” Annette said archly, taking his hand with more force than was strictly necessary. “And the rift seems irreparable.” 

“Indeed.” Sir Fraldarius’ free hand inched towards the hilt of his sword, but good breeding seemed to keep him from grasping it. He turned his sharp eyes upon her, and she nearly faltered under their penetrating gaze. “Would that change the manner of our own favorable companionship, Miss Annette?”

“I believe only time would tell, at this rate,” Annette admitted as the dance slowly wound to a stop. 

He held onto her hand a moment longer before bowing deeply to her as she curtsied in turn to him. The stinging electricity of his eyes was captivating, and it was with great effort that Annette broke from his gaze and walked with some hauteur to where Mercedes was awaiting her in the corner of the room. 

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Her friend admonished her kindly.

“He has done nothing but confuse me even further,” Annette declared. “My only hope for our future relationship is that we don’t claw out each other’s throats in our next encounter.”

“It seemed to me a most amiable conversation!” Mercedes said in surprise, but Annette would hear nothing of it, moving briskly on to join her sisters so as to prepare for the evening’s close. 

Marianne met her with a smile of such sweet complacency, a glow of such happy expression, that it served to sufficiently mark how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. Annette instantly read her feelings, and at that moment her confusion at her strange dance with Sir Fraldarius gave way before the hope of Marianne being in the fairest way for happiness. 

“Lord Blaiddyd saved all but one of his dances for Marianne,” Ingrid confided to her sister as they began to make their farewells. “He had eyes only for her, and I dare say that he fairly rushed through his waltz with his sister just to catch Mari before the end of the next rounds. He’s struck, I tell you!”

“I am glad of it,” Annette declared with great enthusiasm. “So long as he is a man who understands the sweet gentleness of our dear Mari and treats her accordingly, I will give my happy consent to the match.”

“It is a wild assumption, of course,” Ingrid mused. “An advantageous match will certainly raise rumors if they were to proceed with this singular courtship. Marianne is so demure, it would be difficult to ascertain the true depth of her feelings in such a way that her happiness is seen as integral to her interactions with Lord Blaiddyd.”

“What are you saying, Ingrid?” Annette cried indignantly. “Anyone with a working pair of eyes simply needs to look at our sister to see how happy she is in his presence! If they dare to assume otherwise, the fault lies with them.”

“On any other occasion I would agree whole-heartedly with you, my dear sister,” Ingrid remarked in a placating manner, “but you must understand what this must look like from the outside.”

“You are a paranoid soul,” Annette said in an accusing tone. 

But Ingrid simply took her arm to wordlessly lead her out of the ballroom, and it must have been a trick of the mind, but Annette felt the distinct electric sensation of being watched as her sister took her outside. But when she turned, all she saw were the sweeping lights of the hanging fixtures and a brief flash of a night-dark suit.

O.O

“So, word has come to my ear that you have danced with a most sociable gentleman at the Blaiddyd ball,” Captain Gautier remarked on a much-welcome respite after the tumult of the ball. 

Hosted by the reserved but otherwise generally sociable Sir Bartels and his pleasant sister Miss Matritz, the party was a quiet event compared to the bustling finery of the ball. Only the bright and overbearing presence of Lord Aegir marred the glow of the evening’s festivities, but thankfully he was kept at bay by the sharp-eyed graces of his hostess. 

Captain Gautier had the honor of attending much to the gratification of all parties present, for he maintained his charming nature to such a degree that even his indemonstrable host warmed up enough to converse freely.

Annette smiled at the captain from across their table of backgammon. “I’ve danced with several who may fit your description. A pity that I missed out on an opportunity to add you to the list!”

“Ah, I regret that as well, Miss Annette.” The captain moved one of his pieces across the board. “But enough about me. What is this I hear about Sir Fraldarius dancing with only one lucky maiden at the ball? I haven’t heard the end of it from my officers.”

Annette flushed at this unexpected discovery. Did Sir Fraldarius really prove himself to be that discourteous of a gentleman, deigning to dance only with her and not even his esteemed hostess? What on earth was he playing at?

Aloud, she said, “I did have the chance to dance with him, but I would consider the occasion less than an honor.”

The captain raised a brow at her. “Strong words. What sentiment could have elicited such a reaction from your naturally sweet-tempered self?”

Annette rolled her dice with a placating hum. “You flatter me, captain, but it is with sincerest regret that I admit to a most unpleasant time dancing with our taciturn Sir Fraldarius.”

“So he hasn’t changed a whit since last I met him.” The captain calmly maneuvered one of his pieces with a steady hand. “Pity. I hoped that the country life would mellow out his edges.”

“You seem to share an entangled history,” Annette observed in surprise. “How long have you known Sir Fraldarius?”

“I do not pretend to be impartial,” The captain said at length. “I do not wish to stamp on his reputation, which, I am sure, is held in high esteem.”

“Oh, there is not a soul that can bear his manners,” Annette cried with energy. “You are not the first to comment poorly on his reputation, which seems to carry an angelic hue only thanks to his prestigious standing!”

The captain leaned in with a spark of conspiracy in his gaze. “Such standing can only come about from a bloody business, Miss Annette. War can change much of a man’s character, you know.”

Observing her sudden start, he softened his tone. “Ah, forgive me. This is not talk for gentlewomen of your nature.”

“Please, do not pause on my behalf,” Annette said in a breathless tone. “Pray, explain yourself.” 

The captain brushed the errant locks of red from his forehead. He was handsome in the firelight, and the smooth timbre of his voice did much to counterbalance the looming gruesomeness of his tale. 

“The war was a terrible business, you must understand.” He began his story with a fortifying draught of his glass. “The insurrection against the church came about swiftly and without warning, and the subsequent retaliation that came about as a result did much harm to the surrounding estates of the capital. We, in the service of the Archbishop, had much more resources to work with, and as a result the insurrectors lost the war with devastating losses. But when our own Archbishop fell by the knife of some secret spy, our own loss felt irreparable. 

“I was born into a pious family with some noble ties; it’s thanks to their efforts that I avoided the worst of the front. That was where my relationship with Fraldarius was forged in fire. We had been boyhood companions, but there was something to be said about relations made in war. We were assigned to the same regiment and rose to prestige in our own respects. However, as the war dragged on, it was not without its own consequences.” The captain set down his glass with a grimace.

“Suspicions grew hot even as Lady Rhea’s body cooled; there was distrust running rank in what was supposed to be a haven for the lost. Our noble Lord Blaiddyd could testify to the terror that reigned in the streets of our capital, where zealots sowed seeds of terror by setting the buildings ablaze in their efforts to root out the traitor. It was a terrible time, Miss Annette; I still shudder to think back on those days, where you could not tell who was friend and who was foe.

“Then, one day, Sir Fraldarius and I were on patrol. We happened upon someone lurking in the Holy Tomb itself. Someone who bore a familiar knife and an all-too-familiar visage.” 

The captain smiled wanly at her breathless expression. “Miss Annette, we had found our traitor. But it was a dreadful discovery! For it was the Archbishop’s most beloved charge; Byleth Eisner the Enlightened One, who bore the knife which had dealt the killing blow.”

Annette sat back, stunned to her very centre. The blank-faced man she had danced with but a fortnight ago! What was this revelation?

“Sir Fraldarius was enraged, and rightly so. It was betrayal of the highest order to us who had grown under the shelter of the church, who provided for us in the darkest winters and sustained us through seasons of spiritual distress. They have surely been neglected to mere bread and circuses as of late, but one can’t deny the significant socioeconomic effect they had on the communities.

“I digress, Miss Annette. Forgive me for rambling on so. I suppose you want to get at the heart of all this dreadful business.”

Annette nodded her consent with great eagerness. To think that a chance encounter could lead to something so significant! Just who was this man and his tongue of silver, who spun tales of fires and war and insurrections as easily as he plied her darling sisters with compliments of the sincerest nature?

Their backgammon game quite forgotten, Captain Gautier took a piece from the board and fingered it in his grasp. “Fraldarius wanted to slay the traitor immediately. Byleth was a danger to let live, and while he despised the constraints of his social and military rank, I knew Fraldarius well. He hated defection from one’s ideals even more.

“But then I did something foolish that day, Miss Annette. I looked into the eyes of the Enlightened One, and I knew that he could never have committed the unjust crime by which he was condemned. I knew the man. He wept when his stalwart father died; he played with the stray animals littering the monastery, he broke bread with orphans. He could never have killed the matron who had given him a purpose in life. Not enough evidence was present to explain that sudden and mysterious death, and so I fought Sir Fraldarius to buy Byleth enough time to make his escape.”

Annette put a hand to her mouth, sickened. “Good Goddess!”

“We dealt each other near mortal blows. He was always more skilled in arms than what I could’ve ever hoped to achieve.” The captain put a hand to his side, as if remembering in a reverie what it was like to be run through the side with the rapier once hanging so innocently by a night-black belt. 

“I broke more than skin that night, Miss Annette. I broke a lifelong friendship and shattered it beyond repair. It was a terrible choice, but I hold firm to what I chose. It has been years, but I still meet our dear Sir Fraldarius from time to time as you’ve borne witness to before. And, as you know, that deadly clash still simmers under our silent looks of mutual resentment.”

Annette could not move for a time under the blow of this unexpected narrative. The very foundations of her perspectives of these two gentlemen had been shaken to their roots. A thousand more questions burst to her lips. What of Lord Blaiddyd’s connection to all of this? What of Lady Hresvelg? They had moved to the country shortly after the war; so what significance lay behind that relocation? 

Most importantly, how was Mr. Byleth Eisner permitted to dance freely with her that night at the Blaiddyd estate, even under the very gaze of Sir Fraldarius who had sworn to kill him? 

Lord Aegir chose this most opportune time to approach a quiet Captain Gautier and a pale-faced Annette with heightened gallantry. “My dear captain!” he proclaimed, “would you mind if I solicit our dear Miss Annette for an evening stroll?”

“By all means,” the captain recovered quickly, his usual demeanor of good nature sweeping across his comely features. “Forgive me for taking up so much of your time, Miss Dominic. Perhaps in the future, we may finish our game in earnest.”

Annette, too numb to put up her usual protests, allowed herself to be led to the verandah by a most eager Lord Aegir, who as soon as they were quite alone under the moonlight, proceeded to ply her ear with the most extravagant demonstrations of love and adoration available to the human vernacular. 

This sudden and mayhaps heartfelt outburst fell on deaf ears, for Annette was too caught up in her own imaginings to realize the full weight of the proposal made to her. She nodded to Ferdinand Aegir's great list of properties, and she agreed that he was on a certainly elevated rank that befits his noble breeding. However, once the declarations of filial duty and romantic demonstrations of adoration began to chafe on her ears, Annette coldly turned to the posturing gentleman and nipped his proposal clean in the bud, dashing his hopes of ever securing her hand to the cobbled walk as if it were made of the most fragile glass-work. 

In vain did the shocked noble seek a satisfactory answer to this refusal; Annette endeavored to explain how she had no great feelings of love towards him, and, in a final show of exasperation, reminded him of how different their social ranks were. 

Lord Aegir explained how Mrs. Dominic was in full favor of the match, and had but a few days ago given her full consent to his suit! Annette, now very much in the present and shocked by the ludicrous nature of his proposal, finally abandoned all pretense of propriety and refused him in such exacting tones that Lord Aegir felt severely chastised and humiliated by the very woman whom he had thought infatuated with his charms. 

It was a very different sort of gentleman that staggered back inside the drawing room of Sir Bartels, and it was quite a subdued Annette who quietly followed suit a few moments after. Mrs. Dominic, who had been most excited to welcome a new son into her fold, was met with the most sorry sight of a repulsed noble and a stubborn daughter and fairly lost her wits before her husband urgently reminded her that they were in public. 

“You have ruined our entire family, you insolent girl,” Mrs. Dominic hissed as their family hastily boarded their carriage in their preparations to return home, Marianne rubbing Annette’s shoulder in great sympathy all the while Ingrid pronounced her sister’s refusal the wisest decision she had ever made. 

There was no spirited chestnut to escort them home _now_ , but Annette inwardly thought that the sight of her father gravely trotting beside them upon his sturdy dun mare was far more pleasant to see. 

O.O

This month seemed to hold nothing but blows of stunning force against the Dominics, for not long after Annette famously turned down the “match of a lifetime” according to her hysterical mother, another event transpired that shook the community to its core. 

“I cannot believe my ears,” Mercedes said in breathless excitement after arriving pell-mell on their doorstep, flushed from riding hard from her property to the Dominics’, “but the Blaiddyd estate is to be let. The lord is taking his sister and returning to winter in Fhirdiad.”

Annette gasped audibly. Behind her, there was the sound of plate ware crashing to the ground, and a cry from Ingrid. “Marianne! Did you hurt yourself?”

The two girls turned to see Marianne hastily gathering up shattered pieces of porcelain, her face a stricken mask of white as her hands trembled. Both Annette and Mercedes flew to her side to assist her. 

Marianne waved them away, her voice quiet, but firm, “It is nothing of consequence. I expected this. Please, let me be!”

Annette felt indignation swell in her breast; not at her sister—never at her sister!— but at Lord Blaiddyd for suffering them to excuse his absence without so much as a letter of explanation! Were they not entitled to some personal explanation after all the loving looks that the couple traded at the ball, or after the tumultuous few days Marianne was laid abed in his very household? Were they not afforded that common courtesy?

“Mercedes, let me borrow your horse,” Annette said with energy. 

She hardly waited for her friend’s confused assent before exiting the house in great haste, ignoring her mother’s confused cries. 

“Annette? Where on earth are you tearing off to in such a state? Where’s your bonnet? Annette!”

Mercedes’ horse was a beautiful golden-brown palfrey who champed at the bit at the sight of Annette but deigned to let this spirited young maiden sit astride him. Annette was not the skilled rider that her father or Ingrid was, but she sat a decent side-saddle and so urged the horse to its fastest pace towards the Blaiddyd estate. 

She came too late, and upon a veritable wasteland. The once merry household with its lit windows and beautiful sprawling grounds lay dormant without visitors. A single horseman prowled its gravel walk; Annette realized with a start that it was Sir Fraldarius, who was sitting astride his usual jet-black stallion and calmly examining the estate with the air of someone who had done a great deed. 

He caught sight of her and stiffened; Annette challenged him with her gaze, as if expecting a reply to her problems to flow forth from his impassive features. However, Sir Fraldairus was the first to break his gaze from hers, urging his snorting steed into a trot until he approached her. 

“The hour grows late, Miss Annette.” His tones were cool as he inclined his head to her. “Pray allow me to escort you home.”

“I thank you, but I can get by on my own,” Annette replied stiffly. “I however am curious as to the reason behind the speedy departure of the former masters of this estate. Pray inform me if you are at liberty to do so.”

“I cannot say anything more than it was a necessary journey on their part to make.” Sir Fraldarius seemed agitated. “Miss Annette, the woods are dangerous at night. Allow me to see you home.”

“Necessary, how?” Annette cried. “My sister—"

She bit her lip. She must not compromise dear Marianne so—her sister was already suffering in her own silence; she must not bear the ridicule of the public eye thanks to Annette’s loose tongue. 

“Suffice it to say that his presence was sorely needed back in the capital.” Sir Fraldarius was saying, but Annette’s eyes had drifted to the ebony-hilted sword that hung from his waist, the memories of the captain’s words springing unbidden to mind despite her best efforts to do so.

She shuddered; he mistook the action as due to the chill, and so entreated her a third time for him to take her home. This time, Annette allowed him to do so; wearied by the tumultuous feelings seething in her breast at the sight of the man who never failed to roil her emotions into such a frenzy.

Their quiet journey was frosted over with tense silence; Annette had no desire to make conversation with her companion, and Sir Fraldarius seemed to share her sentiment on similar grounds. As a result, their journey home was of a brisk nature, and Annette found that Sir Fraldarius proved exasperatedly excellent at handling his steed, who, while an energetic mount, seemed to take exceedingly well to the firm hand of its master. 

The silence wore on her nerves, and Annette quickly grew restless under its constraints. She longed to break the silence with some jaunty tune, a burst of song; even inane humming would soothe the frazzled tenuity of their current peace! But to humiliate herself in front of a gentleman who had already plummeted in her social graces to such a degree…she would never in a thousand years subject herself to that degree. 

However, Annette found herself subject to a series of quick glances that Sir Fraldarius continued to direct towards her over the majority of their ride home, and when they persisted at length she finally exclaimed aloud in frustration, “Sir, if you mean to stare, at least do me the courtesy of explaining your actions.”

“Ah,” Sir Fradarius started in a most uncharacteristically mortified fashion, and Annette marveled at the way he seemed to suddenly retreat into himself. “I did not mean to offend you. I was simply wondering if you enjoyed the silence as much as I do.”

“I do not enjoy silence,” Annette declared without thinking. “I would much rather have some melody to occupy the movement of my thoughts than having a void for a reply.”

“I see,” Sir Fraldarius said calmly. “Then perhaps a song would liven the so-called void that has yawned between us.” 

“Do you sing, sir?” Annette questioned quickly, for this vein of conversation was sliding close to a dangerous territory that she was not yet prepared to tread. “Because it would be most at odds with your dour personality.”

“Are you still applying that label to my name?” Sir Fraldarius asked in surprise, as if that sentiment was such a foreign concept that it would shock him to hear of it.

“Any labels I apply to a person depends entirely on the conduct that they exhibit,” Annette said with great firmness. 

“And my conduct strikes you as dour?” Sir Felix asked, his gaze turning to hers with such excruciating intensity that she faltered beneath that damned electric gaze. “I suppose I must endeavor to endear myself more favorably to you in the future.”

Annette thanked Saint Seiros and the Goddess Herself as they turned the corner to see the familiar twinkle of her house’s lit windows welcoming her home. “Do so, sir, and we may save your character yet.”

She was so focused on turning into the lane that she never noticed the electric gaze upon her back had faded into something akin to warmth, and that his whitened knuckles upon the reins relaxed infinitesimally, like a sigh. 

Meanwhile, Mercedes stood on her best friend’s verandah with an expression of pure astonishment at the singular sight of the taciturn Sir Fraldarius escorting a flushed Annette home, for there was no mistaking the tragically apparent look of affection the gentleman was directing towards his fair and quite reticent companion. 

“A tragedy in the making,” the woman murmured to herself as she went forth to greet them. 

O.O

“Marianne has been feeling most poorly as of late,” Mrs. Dominic confided to Annette. “We must do something to improve her constitution; I will write to my kinsmen in Fhirdiad at once. Perhaps a change of scenery will improve her spirits.”

“It’s not her environment that needs improvement,” Ingrid muttered most sullenly from her place on the settee. “Lord Blaiddyd does not deserve her attention.”

“Now, Ingrid,” Mrs. Dominic chastised. “It is most unfortunate, and I hold the man with as much contempt as you do. However, we must stick our courage to the sticking point. My kinsman, Mr. Ashe Ubert and his husband, have always been fond of our dear Marianne. Their kindness would surely do her some good.”

“Not to mention that they live in a well-situated part of town,” Annette reminded her sister. “Perhaps they may provide an opportunity for a meeting between the two parties.”

Ingrid shook her golden head and sighed, a habit she had been forming as of late. “Marianne’s heart has been broken. Does she need to subject herself to chasing after the coattails of a man who has trampled upon her spirits so?”

Despite Ingrid’s misgivings, Marianne agreed to her family’s proposal of her excursion to Fhirdiad. Brightening from the listlessness that had befallen her ever since the news of Lord Blaiddyd’s departure, she set about her preparations for travel with a determined air. 

As Ingrid was strongly against the idea of meeting Lord Blaiddyd face-to-face again, Annette was to be Marianne’s traveling companion to Fhirdiad. Beset by restlessness brought about by recent discoveries, Annette was most eager to accompany her sister if only to free her mind from its muddled state of confusion. She was also quite fond of her kinsmen Mr. Ubert and Mr. Molinaro, for not only were they respectable gentlemen who were in possession of the most earnest of natures, they had always treated her with great care and kindness in the past. 

It was difficult to believe that the strident Mrs. Dominic shared blood ties with the young and polite gentlemen who greeted them warmly at the ladies’ arrival in the capital. Mr. Ashe Ubert was of an extremely earnest and sweet nature, and his joyful greeting cheered their listless spirits considerably. His husband, Mr. Dedue Molinaro, possessed a more withdrawn character, but his very presence soothed the frazzled nerves of both Annette and Marianne, and his gentle manners proved most gratifying to experience after the shrill tones of their mother. 

“You must come riding with us down to the cathedral,” The handsome gentleman urged with great energy. “The Archbishop delivers the most beautiful sermons.”

“I’ve heard tell of his peculiar manners of locution.” Marianne, ever the pious one of the family, agreed quietly. “Experiencing his skills first hand would be a welcome change.”

“They’ve only just settled, my dear,” Mr. Molinaro chided his husband gently. “Let us at least take them upon the river.”

“Oh! You’re right, of course.” Mr. Ubert clapped his hands eagerly. “Once you’ve gathered your strength, we are most eager to show you how lovely the waters are this far north. Clearer than crystal, they are, and the trees! Such greenery of the like you’ve never seen before!” 

Annette, the lover of nature, perked up at the news, and after perceiving her interest, the couple decided that an evening of respite upon the dark river meandering through the capital was in order. The slight chill in the air brought out the most becoming flush of color in the two girls’ cheeks, and the two gentlemen were gratified to see their companions enjoying themselves in the refreshing atmosphere of the evening. 

O.O

The holiday proved to be most invigorating to the two girls, who thoroughly enjoyed themselves under the ministrations of their hosts, who were both anxious to relieve any anxiety or discomfort that lingered in the two girls. It was a very pleasant few weeks that slowly crept by, filled with all manner of gentle excursions befitting their status. 

Marianne was adamant on attending the local service every Sunday, if only to hear the famous Archbishop deliver one of his famous lectures, and Annette agreed under this pious pretense. She was in truth hoping to catch a glimpse of Lord Blaiddyd and his company, anxious to see in what kind of manner the gentleman was behaving in his hometown, far removed from the pleasantries of the countryside and its equally amiable residents. 

Her mind was most often preoccupied by this current perplexity even though her hosts endeavored to surround her with more pleasant distractions. Annette found herself making the pleasant acquaintances of local nobles and foreign dignitaries alike, for despite both Mr. Ubert and Mr. Molinaro’s more humble upbringings, they were of such gentle natures that they seemed to endear themselves most flatteringly to the community.

One acquaintance she had the pleasure of making during those weeks in the capital was an esteemed scholar and friend of one spurned Lord von Aegir, Mr. Linhardt von Hevring. Annette met him with some embarrassment on her part, but the lethargic gentleman waved off her concerns with nary a murmur on the subject. 

“You should know that while you’ve earned yourself a reputation as the forward young woman who had turned down a noble worth 8,000 pounds a year, you’ve also earned the respect of those who harbor no such love of the suitor in question.” Mr. Hevring was an affable gentleman with a fine wit and lethargic manner, but he seemed acutely aware of the social connections of the capital, which suited Annette’s queries excellently. 

“I am glad of it,” Annette said with some relief, for she felt that she was under constant scrutiny ever since arriving in the capital. 

“Lord Blaiddyd himself also boasts of a yearly salary of 8,000 pounds, but his estates are worth far more than Lord Aegir. The latter does love to gild his lilies, but one must not look too closely in the faces of nobility. Then again, one simply has to observe the self-imposed seclusions that Lord Blaiddyd so loves to embark on and wonder if he is truly worth those stately acres of land,” Mr. Hevring pronounced with unutterable calm, as if he had not just disparaged two respectable gentlemen with one fell blow. 

Stupefied by his frankness, Annette questioned him earnestly on his opinion of Lord Blaiddyd. 

“Ah, he is an unmatched gentleman,” Mr. Hevring said languidly, as if reciting a speech by rote. “Born into a most wealthy and prestigious family, in possession of the most happy of manners, a decorated war veteran, and with a wealth of connections, etcetera. Why, the only thing he lacks is a suitable wife, then he would be made complete in the eyes of the local gentry. However, I dare say that his current unmarried status has certainly elevated interest in his person, more so than if he were to have a lady of equal merit upon his arm. It is good that he has his best friend and confidante, Sir Felix Fraldarius, to save him from such imprudent decisions.” 

“What is it you mean?” Annette asked in surprise. 

“Just something that the man himself has confided to me,” Mr. Hevring commented. “Only that Lord Blaiddyd was quite indebted to him as of late; more so than usual. I believe his reputation was at stake, could you imagine? Perhaps that is why he came home so suddenly despite having enjoyed himself in the country.”

Annette begged for more details despite the fears growing steadily in her breast. Mr. Hevring did not seem to take notice of her sudden fervor, going so far as to yawn as he made his own deflections. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly. Apparently, if it were to reach the lady’s family, it would be most unpleasant. Plus, I have no right to suppose that Lord Blaiddyd was the person meant. It was all conjecture.”

“Please,” Annette entreated. “I will be sure to exercise discreet caution.” 

Mr. Hevring sighed. “Apparently, Sir Fraldarius rescued his friend from a most imprudent marriage, but now without mentioning names or any sort of particulars. I only suspected it to be our dear Blaiddyd from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort.”

Annette’s lips were white as she struggled to speak. “Did Sir Fraldarius give any sort of indication for this interference?”

Mr. Hevring failed to abstain from another yawn. “I believe there were strong objections against the lady.”

Her heart swelled with indignation. Breaking from the shade of the lane they were currently walking under, she walked on with such fury that her companion noticed her energy through his own haze of lethargy and quietly observed upon her tumult of emotions. 

“You seem disposed to call his interference officious,” he said.

“Officious!” Annette exclaimed. “Officious! It’s downright detestable! Why was he to be the judge? His feelings do not sit right with me.”

“Again, I know no more than what I have already told you.” Mr. Hevring huffed to keep up with her frantic pace. “Miss Annette—”

“I’m so sorry, but I’m feeling indisposed.” Annette interrupted. “I should not keep you any longer, good-day, sir.”

As she rushed forward, leaving Mr. Hevring blinking in her wake, her companion rubbed at his temples. “Energetic thing. Who would’ve thought that the gossipers were right; she would’ve suited Aegir most poorly indeed.”

O.O

Annette in her fluster took to the banks of the river. Uncaring of the storm clouds that rumbled ominously overhead, she ran and ran; to where? She could not return to the Ubert homestead in this disturbed state, for empathetic Marianne would surely notice her flushed countenance, and she would question her at length, and loose tongued Annette would spill it all…

Annette trembled with anger as she paced the length of the river. Marianne! Marianne! Sweet Marianne’s happiness had been ruined by that fiend, that villain Sir Fraldarius! How dare he? How could he have made such a misjudgement of her darling sister’s motivation? She had been nothing but courteous and joyful in Lord Blaiddyd’s presence!

 _It took a truly malicious soul to misinterpret that happy flush upon my sister’s face as a look of predatory triumph,_ Annette thought furiously to herself. _A villain! He could be nothing less than an absolute, awful, villain!_

Suddenly, there was a clap of thunder. Annette looked up, startled, and was dismayed to find that it had already begun to rain heavily while she was distracted by the tumult of her thoughts. She clutched at her skirts and sped onwards, blinking away the hot tears that threatened to spill over among the rivulets of rain that crept down her flushed cheeks. 

She took shelter in a decrepit stone folly deep in the woods, her harsh breathing ringing in the cavernous silence as she dashed inside. Annette clutched one of the stone pillars and wished desperately that she and her sister were home again, safe by the warmth of their family hearth with Ingrid’s dry witticisms and their father’s stolid company…even their mother’s overbearing nature was more welcome than this hideous revelation! 

Annette squeezed her eyes tight, struggling to catch her breath, but then when a quick and manly tread stole unexpectedly on her senses, she started violently. For when she reopened her eyes, there standing before her in a most disheveled state of undress was Sir Fraldarius, his eyes lit with some desperate flame and his countenance flushed in a way that emphasized the cut of his clenched jaw and the unkempt darkness of his wild hair near unbound by his rush. 

Annette opened her mouth to give voice to her astonishment. “Sir Fraldarius! I thought you were in the country.”

“I came to Fhirdiad for a single object. I had to see you.” His voice was rough, urgent. “Miss Annette—”

He swallowed visibly, his gloved fingers tightening around his riding whip, and Annette stared at him with surprise. This was no coldly mannered gentleman, but someone who was struggling with a most violent emotion. 

Sir Fraldarius finally broke the silence. His tones were troubled but focused, as if he could not rest until he’d spoken his piece. “I will not repeat myself. I came for the sole reason of seeing you and proclaiming my affection.”

Annette turned white. “Affection—”

“I love you,” Sir Fraldarius said agitatedly. “I love you, and I want you to be my wife.”

Annette was overcome with astonishment. She colored violently and her fists tightened, but she could not muster a single word of retort. 

Sir Fraldarius began pacing the length of the folly. “I fought these feelings against my better judgment and the expectations placed upon me, for I know how strongly and disfavorably others would look upon our match. But I had to tell you, I _had_ to--”

He broke off with a strangled sound, and Annette finally found her voice in the wake of his emotion. “But what, sir?” she asked coldly. 

Sir Fraldarius looked fierce in his impatience. “‘But what’? I have made my feelings clear at the cost of my dignity and pride. I am asking for your hand. Have you nothing to say about it?”

“Sir,” Annette stepped towards him, her indignance at his impertinence lending her unnatural bravery. “I appreciate the struggle that you’ve been through and I apologize to have caused you pain. It was unconsciously done.”

He colored. “Is this your reply?”

She raised her chin. “Yes.”

“Are you mocking me?” His eyes grew dark. “Are you _rejecting_ me?”

Annette glared at him furiously. “I’m sure that the feelings which, as you’ve told me, have hindered your regard will help you in overcoming it.” 

Sir Fraldarius struggled to speak. His own lips had whitened with anger. “I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. Please, do so at your convenience.”

“And I wish to be informed why you ask for my affections while harboring a most heinous design to repulse them!” Annette returned with great energy. 

“I don’t understand,” he replied with great desperation. 

Annette drew herself to her full height. “Did you really think that your rank and my inferiority would tempt me to accept the hand of a man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”

A flash of strong emotion crossed his features, but otherwise he remained silent. His silence infuriated her, and she stepped closer. 

“Do you deny it?” Her tone and pitch raised in volume. “That you cut between a most happy and loving couple and subjected them to misery of the acutest kind while allowing your friend to be seen as a capricious and shallow fellow as my _sister_ was publicly derided for harboring disappointed hopes?”

“I do not deny it,” he finally replied with some hauteur. 

“You do not deny it?” Her voice was soft as she repeated after him in disbelief. Annette’s voice broke, her throat tight. “How could you?” 

Sir Fraldarius’ eyes narrowed. “Because I thought your sister was indifferent to his affections.”

Her previous emotions surged with renewed energy. “Indifferent? Marianne was never indifferent to him, never since the day he cared for her when she fell ill!”

“I observed them most carefully,” Sir Fraldarius said in a tone of frigid calm. “And it was obvious that his affection was stronger than hers. I was persuaded that she never felt strongly for him.”

“That’s because she’s shy!” Annette cried aloud in frustration. “She has always struggled with showing her true emotions to even me, her close sister and confidante!”

A sinister rumble of thunder threaded through their heated conversation, and for a moment they both fell silent, one seething with anger and the other struggling to stay sociable.

“I suppose,” Annette finally said bitterly, “that you were entirely conscious of the great gap in between their fortunes—”

“No!” Sir Fraldarius replied with sudden fervor, “I would never do your sister the dishonor!”

“Was our family so poorly connected?” Annette asked with venom. “Oh! I suppose that our lack of propriety and unconventional penchant for friendships amongst past traitors against the church—”

“Absolutely not,” he said agitatedly, as if this subject struck a sore spot. “That was a point I never held against you.”

“And yet you hold it against Captain Gautier,” Annette pronounced in a damning tone.

If Sir Fraldarius had only shown flickers of his true emotions before, now there was a veritable flame of anger giving color to his stricken features. The strength of his feeling was so palpable that even Annette took a step back from its heat. 

“Captain Gautier?” he repeated with dreadful calm, advancing towards her with his hand upon the hilt of his sword. “You take an eager interest in that man’s affairs.”

It seemed an unconscious act more than anything, but Annette’s heart still hammered painfully in her chest as she stood firm while he moved close enough for her to see the amber of his eyes. 

“He told me what happened in the Holy Tomb,” she declared. 

Sir Fraldarius let loose a bark of bitter laughter. “So he’s told you! I’m sure he’s most eager to divulge every detail of that miserable encounter.”

“You nearly killed him in your zeal,” Annette accused. 

“He nearly killed _me_.” He smiled grimly. 

At this close proximity Annette was suddenly made aware of a thin, white scar upon his neck that ended near where his collar was folded down. It seemed small, but hinted at what seemed to be a dreadful wound. 

He gazed down at her with heat in his eyes. “Do not speak of things of which you know nothing about, Miss Annette. I fought him because I believed he was in the wrong, and he reciprocated for that very same reason. I do not harbor any ill-will towards him that was not undeserved.”

“You’ve humiliated and wounded him beyond any degree of human decency.” Annette was forced to look upwards at him from this proximity, and was discomfited by how warm his body was compared to the chill from the rain. “You have not offered him a chance at forgiveness!”

Sir Fraldarius glared at her, and that stinging electricity had built between them to a fever pitch, like a wire being strung over buildings that were too far apart. 

“So this is your opinion of me. I thank you for explaining so clearly.” His voice was soft. “Had I known that your pride was preventing you to see things as they truly were—”

“ _My_ pride?” Annette all but cried in great offense, but he was not to be dissuaded. 

“Did you expect me to enjoy the inferiority of your circumstances? To rejoice that you treat every gentleman you meet with such winning _charm_ ,” his voice broke on the word, “but endeavor to keep me from you at arm’s length?”

“And those are the words of a gentleman?” Annette said angrily. “From the moment I first met you, sir, your frigidity and disdain for the feelings of others have made me realize that not only were you the last man I could espouse myself to, but that your actions are only befitting that of a hateful, hateful villain!” 

Thunder struck with that last, damning word, and Annette watched as the facade of aloofness upon Sir Fraldarius face fell into a stricken expression of such hurt that she nearly staggered under its intensity. 

But, quickly as the mask had fallen apart, its former cold indifference was reformed with just as much speed that it was as if an entirely different man was standing before her, even while drenched from the rain and stricken white to the lips. 

“I apologize for taking up so much of your time, madame.” 

He bowed low to her, and she had barely the presence of mind to curtsey. It felt false but comforting to fall into this pretense of manners while they had nearly broken every rule of social engagement in the last few minutes. 

As Annette watched Sir Fraldarius stride and disappear into the rain, she finally allowed herself to fall to her knees, unclench her white-knuckled fists, and burst into a much needed, but no less agonizing, round of tears. 

  


  


.

End of Part II.  
  
  


(At the Ball by LunaChai)  
  


* * *

  
  


(Rain Scene by LunaChai)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale will be uploaded later this week! I apologize for the wait >.< but thank you for sticking along this far!

**Author's Note:**

> Check out LunaChai's amazing art for this fic [here!](https://twitter.com/lunachaili/status/1302273894720532486)


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